When the Lights Go Out
by gryffingirl77
Summary: STORY COMPLETE! When Jordan's High School friends start turning up dead Jordan must figure out who the killer is before she is next! My first CJ fanfic. Please read & review! J-W Sorta
1. When The Dead Start Walking

Author's Note: Hello! Thank you for stopping by! This is my first Crossing Jordan fanfic. Please read and review, all feedback is greatly appreciated!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Crossing Jordan characters

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Do you ever wake up in the morning and think, "I hope that today is different. I hope that today is the day where my life can start to be normal."?

My name is Jordan Cavanaugh and welcome to my life.

My life is anything but normal. I have an innate ability to find, and get into, trouble. That, along with my insatiable curiosity can be a lethal combination.

From the time I was a little girl I was into everything and always asking questions. I remember my Dad, Max Cavanaugh, encouraging me to ask questions, to be curious. My mother used to laugh and tell me that there weren't enough answers in this world for all of my questions.

I work as a medical examiner for the city of Boston, Massachusetts, where I was born and raised. I haven't lived here my whole life though. On top of my other quirks I also can't stay in one place for a long period of time. I get antsy and bored and have to go do something different.

I only recently returned to Boston from California. L.A. had been fun for a while but I had gotten bored of the sun and started longing for the unpredictable weather of Boston.

I had left Boston on not the best of terms and had lucked out by getting my old job back.

My old job which, at the moment, I was extremely late to. Again.

I walked off of the elevator and tried to slip around the back way in hopes that no one would notice what time I had arrived. After all, it had worked before, several times in fact.

"JORDAN!"

"Damn," I muttered, turning to face Garrett Macy, my boss.

"You're late," he stated sternly, his face grim, which was normal.

I held up my coffee cup as a buffer. As I had been partying pretty hard the night before the volume of his voice was not a good thing this early in the morning. I gave him what I hoped was a charming smile. "Heey, Garrett, I'm sorry, I..."

"I don't want to hear your excuses Jordan. This is the third time this week."

Since it was only Wednesday I figured that wasn't the best thing. "Yeah, Garrett, I..."

"Save it Jordan. We already had a call. It's a messy one and I wanted you to be on it. I had to send Bug," Garrett said sharply.

I winced at the anger in his voice. Garrett was a good guy, if a little on the uptight side. He had given me a second chance when most people would have thrown me straight out of their office.

"I want you to go and give Bug a hand. Here," he said, handing me a sheaf of papers that I knew held what details we had of the crime. "It's an apartment on Sixth and Lexington. Apartment 36 C."

My groggy mind sharpened at the sound of that address. "Sixth and Lexington?" I asked. "What's the name of the complex?"

Garrett gave me a look and glanced down at the clipboard in his hand. "It's...Willowbend."

My mind froze. "Willowbend? Apartment 36 C?" I repeated.

"Yes. Jordan, what is it?" Garrett asked, the icy look on his face melting slightly as he stared at me standing there with my mouth hanging open.

"I've got to go," I said, not answering him. I bolted straight back into the elevator which had just opened and almost knocked Lily Libowski, our resident grief counsellor, over in my haste.

"Jordan, what's wrong?" she asked, alarmed.

I just shook my head as I pressed the door close button, the doors sliding shut and blocking out Garrett's and Lily's concerned faces.

I hurried through the lobby of the apartment complex, ignoring the media and police that swarmed around. A cop tried to stop me but I held up my ME badge and he waved me through to the elevators.

When the elevator doors slid open I strode down the hall and through the open apartment door. The whole drive I had tried to tell myself I was worried about nothing.

As I walked through the door and saw Bug crouched on the floor over the body of a red-haired young woman I knew immediately that I had been right to be worried.

"Oh, no," I whispered, feeling my face drain of color.

Bug looked up when he heard me. "Jordan!" he said, standing up.

I dropped my bag onto the floor and walked over to where Bug was standing with the body.

"What's wrong, Jordan?" he asked.

I looked down at the body. There was blood everywhere, pooled beneath the body and splashed all over the room. The walls, the cream colored couch were dripping with blood.

Being a medical examiner I had seen blood. I had seen gory, gruesome, I had seen things that would make normal people sick. It was all part of the job.

But when the body you were looking at was someone you knew, it was an entirely different matter.

"Lindsey," I said softly, looking down at the girl. She had been beaten badly; her face was a mass of bruises. Her body looked like hamburger; her chest was a mass of flesh and blood, the wounds apparently inflicted by the large bloody kitchen knife that was on the floor next to the body.

"What?" Bug said.

"Her name is Lindsey Carlson," I said, looking past Bug to the bloody apartment.

"That's right. How did you know that? We just barely id'd her," Bug said, his brow furrowed.

"Lindsey and I went to high school together," I said abruptly, walking past Bug to search around the apartment.

"You know her?" Bug asked.

"Knew," I said. "We were friends in high school but I hadn't seen her for years until about a month ago. She looked me up through my father."

"I'm sorry, Jordan," Bug said softly. "You can go, I'm sure Macy can send Nige to help."

"No, no. I'm fine. It's my job, I can handle it," I said shortly, slipping on a pair of rubber gloves so I could shuffle through a pile of mail on the kitchen table.

Bug hovered behind me for another minute before he sighed loudly and went back to the body.

"What's the time of death?" I asked as soon as I had composed myself enough to go back to stand next to Bug.

"Approximately two a.m.," Bug replied.

I hunched down on the floor next to Lindsey's body. She had been a beautiful girl. Long red hair, bright green eyes. It had been a total surprise when she had called me up a month ago. She had called my dad, wanting to hook up with her old friends, apparently feeling nostalgic since our fifteen year high school reunion was coming up. I had been in this apartment just two weeks ago talking with Lindsey and having a few drinks, just like old times.

"Jordan!"

I snapped out of my reverie and looked up to see Detective Woodrow Hoyt coming through the door. He was tall, nicely built, with black hair and piercing blue eyes and an endearing grin.

"Hey, Woody," I said, looking back down at the body. I gently picked up one of Lindsey's hands and looked carefully at her fingernails. Nothing. Nothing under the fingernails of the other hand either.

"Can you tell us anything yet?" Woody asked, all business. No one would guess that he and I had had an on again off again relationship for the past six months. Mostly off, albeit, but still...

"Liver temp puts time of death at around 2 a.m. She appears to have been beaten and stabbed to death," Bug said.

"Is that the knife?" Woody asked, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen knife next to her body.

I shrugged. "No way to tell yet. Have to run tests."

Woody nodded. "Right, well...there was no sign of forced entry. None of the neighbors saw or heard anything. We're checking the lobby surveillance tapes to try to account for everyone that came in last night."

I stood up and pulled my gloves off. There was nothing else we could do here. The rest would have to be done at the morgue. A tight ball of anger was forming in the middle of my stomach. Someone had brutally murdered this girl, my old high school friend. Somehow or another I would make sure that they were found and paid for what they had done.

Woody, apparently noticing the look on my face, took a step closer to me. "Is everything okay Jordan?"

"Yeah, fine," I said.

"Jordan knows this girl," Bug interjected and I glared at him.

"You know her?" Woody asked.

"Yeah. We went to high school together," I said casually.

"They just recently saw each other again," Bug said, not meeting my eye.

"Jordan! When did you see her last?"

"Uh...a couple of weeks ago. She found me through my dad, she called, we got together for drinks, promised to keep in touch and that was it," I said.

"Were you in the apartment?" Woody asked.

I hesitated for a second, but the stern look on Woody's face made me sigh and say, "Yes, I met her here for drinks."

"Jordan, you have to leave! This is not good!" Woody said. He looked as if he were about to have a panic attack. He looked like that a lot, I thought.

"What?" I said irritably. "It's not like we were best friends."

"It doesn't matter! You knew her, you were here two weeks ago, this could taint the case. You need to leave."

"Fine!" I snapped. "I'll leave, but I'm staying on this case."

"Not until you talk to Macy," Woody said.

I glared at him.

"Don't give me that look, Jordan. He has to know."

I sighed loudly. "Fine, I'll go and tell him. There, do you feel better?"

Woody looked at me suspiciously. "I don't know if I believe you."

"Dude, lighten up," I said, smiling. "I'll tell him. Don't worry about it."

"Bug," Woody said, "Will you go with her to talk to Macy?"

"Sure," Bug said, his back to us as he gathered up his stuff.

"Woody, I don't need a babysitter!" I said irritably.

"Right. I'll be in touch," Woody said and turned to talk to an officer that had just walked in the room.

Fuming, I glared at Woody's retreating back as I gathered up my stuff and stalked out of the room, Bug right behind me.

"I'm sorry, Jordan, but I had to tell him," Bug said.

"Yeah, I know."

"Are you mad?"

"Of course."

"That's what I thought."

Back at the ME office

"Heey, Boss," I said as I walked off the elevator and saw Garrett talking to Lily.

"Jordan. What did you find?" Garrett asked.

"And what happened before you left?" Lily added, giving me her patented probing look.

"Well, that's the thing. I, uh, well, I know the vic," I said.

"What?" Garrett said.

"Yeah. Her name's Lindsey Carlson. We were friends in high school. She just looked me up a month ago and we hung out one night and had drinks. That's it."

"Did you go to her apartment?" Garrett asked sharply.

"Uh. Well, yes," I said.

"Jordan! You should not have stayed there once you realized you knew the vic. You know that's conflict of interest," Garrett roared.

"Take it easy, Garrett. Bug already had it handled. I didn't do anything."

Bug, who had just gotten off the elevator, was trying to slink away, but Garrett saw him.

"Bug!"

Bug stopped. "Yes?" he said innocently.

"Did you know that Jordan knew the vic?"

"She told me. I told her she could go, but she didn't want to. She said she could handle it."

"Did she also tell you that she had been in that apartment?" Garrett asked, sounding very much like a prosecuting attorney out for blood.

"Well," Bug said, looking around. "Yes?"

"Bug, you know that's a conflict of interest!"

"She didn't do anything! I was already done when she got there!" Bug protested.

Garrett sighed loudly. "Fine. Jordan, you're off the case."

"What!" I yelped.

"You know you can't be on this case, Jordan."

My jaw dropped. "But..."

"You know the rules."

"But I want to help with this one. You know, because it's personal," I said.

"No."

"But Garrett!"

"Jordan, I cannot put you on the case and you know it. If it compromises the case..."

"So assign someone else to it. Keep Bug on it. But let me help," I said.

Garrett looked unconvinced and Lily and Bug just looked uncomfortable.

Garrett sighed heavily. "Jordan..."

I decided to pull all the stops. "Please?" I said, giving him the best sad eyed look I could muster, which wasn't saying much.

He sighed again. "Fine. You can help, but if something else comes up, you have to take it if there's no one else."

I slugged Garrett in the arm. "Thanks man," I said with a smile. "I'm going to make sure this guy gets caught."

Garrett rolled his eyes and turned to walk back to his office without another word.

xx Well, what do you think? Please review and let me know! xx


	2. Breaking All The Windows

Big thanks to: Sweet-rush37, jtbwriter, Angel of Fate, Monkey, kacie20& Sadie for the reviews. I appreciate you!

Here is Chapter 2. Thanks for stopping by!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of Crossing Jordan

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Chapter 2:

When the body was ready I donned a pair of scrubs and joined Bug in the autopsy room.

"How's it going?" I asked Bug who had already started the autopsy.

"Hmm," he said. "Hard to tell as yet. There are so many stab wounds I can't even make a proper T incision."

The 'T' incision opened up the body cavity. I grimaced slightly when I walked over to the body, seeing immediately what he meant.

I swallowed and forced myself not to think about the fact that I knew this girl. I made myself look at it as a regular autopsy.

But it didn't take long for either of us to realize that this was NOT just another autopsy. On top of the violence of the way she had been beaten and murdered there was almost no trace evidence. Nothing under her nails. No hair, no fibers on the body. She hadn't been raped. She had been beaten but the perp hadn't choked her so there were no fingerprint impressions on her skin.

By the time we finished frustration was burning inside of me. Bug looked almost as frustrated as I felt. He tossed his gloves into the trash with a little more force than necessary.

"I sure hope they found some evidence in that apartment," Bug said, scowling.

"No kidding," I replied. I flipped through the print out of our findings, or lack thereof. "This is ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous?"

Bug and I turned to see Woody coming through the autopsy room door. He gave a sideways look at the body, which was covered. With a relieved sigh he walked over to us.

"We didn't find any trace evidence," I said, handing him the preliminary autopsy report. He shuffled through the papers, his brow furrowed. "Did you find anything in the apartment?"

Woody looked up, his brow furrowed. "We found a lot of blood, the victim's fingerprints, fingerprints belonging to a Jordan Cavanaugh," he paused to give me a pointed look, "And two other sets, one belonging to the apartment super that let us in and another unidentified set. We ran them but we didn't get any hits."

"That could be our guy," Bug said.

Woody shrugged. "Possibly. Jordan, your prints are in the apartment so I need to get a statement from you even though you're cleared. You weren't on the surveillance tapes."

"Oh good," I said sarcastically. "I'm glad to know I didn't murder my old high school friend. Thanks for telling me."

"Jordan, knock it off. You know its just standard procedure," Woody said, giving me an injured look.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I said. "I'm just frustrated."

Woody snorted. "You and me both," he said and turned his attention back to the report. "So the kitchen knife was the murder weapon?"

"It appears that way. The wounds match the knife, the blood on the knife is the vics. But the only prints on it are the victims," Bug said.

"Wonderful," said Woody.

"Do you wanna get a statement now?" I asked. "We have to meet with Macy in a half hour."

Woody nodded and I led him to one of the interview rooms.

It didn't take long for Woody to get a statement since there was really nothing to tell. Once we were done he left, promising to call if or when the found anything new.

Bug and I went over our findings with Garrett who ended up as frustrated as everyone else was with the lack of evidence.

"There had to be something," he said. "We have to go over the body again."

"Garrett, we went over it. We were in there for hours. There was nothing there," I said.

"Yeah, Dr. Macy, there was nothing," Bug agreed.

Garrett sighed heavily. "The DA is going to be all over this one. If we don't make sure we cover our bases..."

"Yeah, and with me on the case you know she'll be an even bigger—"

"Jordan!" Bug hissed, shaking his head.

"A bigger what, Dr. Cavanaugh?"

I turned around to see the DA, Renee Wolcott, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.

Garrett stood quickly and walked over to her.

"Renee," he said with a stiff smile.

"Dr Macy, please tell me Dr Cavanaugh is not on this case."

"Bug is on the case," Garrett said. "Dr Cavanaugh assisted with the autopsy."

"Her prints were in the room, she shouldn't be on this case at all," Wolcott said.

Garrett looked at her evenly. "As long as I am the head ME, I choose who works on what case," he said.

She glared at him. "Fine. But if I see one misstep, I will be forced to take other actions."

"Fine," Garrett said, glaring right back.

"Let me know if you find anything new. I'm on my way to the precinct right now to talk to the lead detective," Wolcott said as she turned to leave.

"Poor Woody," I muttered under my breath and Bug stifled a laugh. Garrett gave me a dirty look.

Wolcott sailed out of the room and I heaved a relieved sigh. The woman made my skin crawl.

"Jordan, will you please refrain from your commentary while Ms. Wolcott is in the room? I know you two hate each other, but can you knock off the comments while I'm trying to stick up for you?" Garrett said as he sank back into his chair.

"Sorry, Boss," I said, trying to look properly contrite.

Garrett shook his head. "Back to what I was saying, when this gets out people are going to go nuts. There's no solid leads, almost no evidence. When people find out how brutally she was killed...well, the press is going to have a field day with it."

I nodded. Especially because it was a young woman. That's always how it went.

"Bug, Jordan, why don't you see get Nigel to go over the body with some of the more high tech tools. We need to cover our bases and do everything we can."

"Right," I said.

"Okay," Bug replied, nodding.

"Let me know if anything new comes up."

Bug and I nodded and left the room. We were on our way down the hall to find Nigel when Lily popped around a corner. She was wearing a ruffly flowered skirt and a low cut pink sweater. I caught Bug staring at her and he quickly looked away.

"Jordan! I was looking for you! Can I talk to you for a sec?" she said quickly.

I looked over at Bug who shrugged and said, "I'll go find Nige and we can meet up in the autopsy room."

"Alright," I said with a nod. Bug continued down the hall, giving Lily one last surreptitious look out of the corner of his eye as he left.

"What's up Lil?" I asked.

Lily gave me a probing look and led me down the hall to her office. "Jordan, Dr Macy told me that you were friends with Lindsey Carlson," she said as she sat at her desk and motioned me towards a chair.

Oh, I got it now. Lily was going to do her grief counsellor bit with me.

"Yeah, we were friends in high school," I said dismissively, hoping that if I acted nonchalant Lily would drop it.

"Dr Macy said that you had just met up with her again though."

I sighed and sank into a chair. Obviously she wasn't going to drop it. "That's right. We had drinks, talked. It was just once."

Lily nodded. "How are you feeling about everything?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I said lightly. "I just want to catch the guy that did it."

"Do you want to talk about anything?" she asked quietly.

"Nah. I'm fine. I've just got work to do," I said with a little laugh. "You know how it goes."

"Okay," Lily said.

"Right."

We stared at each other for another minute. "So...can I go?" I asked.

Lily sighed and stood up. "Of course. Just remember, I'm here if you need to talk."

"Right," I said again as I stood up. "Thanks," I added awkwardly.

I turned and walked out of Lily's office, leaving Lily shaking her head.

I jogged down the hall and burst into the autopsy room where I found Nigel and Bug going over the body again.

"Hey, whatcha doing?" I asked.

"Hey luv," Nigel said as he looked up. "Just trying to find any trace of fingerprints on her arm. Hoping our perp left something." Nige brushed his long hair out of his eyes and went back to work.

Three hours later we had exhausted Nigel's store of equipment and had found nothing else. Now there was three of us burning with frustration.

"This is not logical," Nigel said. "There is no such thing as a perfect crime. There has to be some kind of evidence."

"I agree," Bug said. "And I hope that the Crime Scene guys find it."

It was late by then so we hurried to clean up and went our separate ways. I found myself sitting at my desk staring into space, the autopsy report spread out on the desk in front of me. There had to be something else. There had to be.

I was still staring at the report when Nigel and Bug came in the room an hour or so later. They were in their street clothes.

"Jordan, luv, we were wondering if you wanted to go get a drink," Nigel said with a grin.

"Nah, thanks though. I just want to go over this stuff some more," I said, waving my hand at the report.

"The case will still be here tomorrow. Have you eaten anything today?" Nigel asked.

"Uh, no ," I replied.

"C'mon. You can come in early tomorrow, but you need to eat something. And a drink probably wouldn't hurt ya either."

I gave Nigel a little smile. "Okay, you talked me into it. I'll meet you at the elevator in a sec."

Nigel and Bug nodded and left. I shrugged out of my scrubs jacket and picked up my purse. I looked at the autopsy report on my desk, at the beaten, blue face of my old high school friend.

"I'll find 'em Lindsey. I won't forget. And he will pay," I whispered as I switched off the light and went to meet Nigel and Bug.

xX Please don't forget to review! Many thanks!Xx


	3. Gonna Run Outside

Thanks to: TraceyH, jtbwriter, kacie20 & Helena for the reviews. You guys keep my muse happy! I appreciate your reviews!

Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan or any of the characters from the show.

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I woke up before my alarm went off the next day. As amazing as that was, I also managed to pick up a coffee before work and still get to the office almost half an hour before my shift, which was nothing short of a miracle.

I walked off the elevator, holding my double cappuccino and the first person I saw was Garrett, who was waiting for the elevator.

"Leaving so soon, Garrett?" I asked with a smirk.

"Jordan. It's only 8:30. What are you doing here?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Got stuff to do, wanted to get started early. I want to talk to Woody, see if there's any new information."

Garrett gave me a calculating look. "Okay, Jordan. Nigel's off today, though, so you might have to take a case if we need you."

I nodded. "Sure thing Garrett," I said.

"I have to go for a minute, but I'll be back," Garrett said as he hit the down button. He had that angry uptight look about him, which surely meant trouble. Normally I would have thought it was me, but I had just gotten there.

"What's up?" I asked, curious.

He shook his head. "Just my daughter," he said.

"Uh oh. What'd she do?" I asked.

"She was trying to sluff school. She got caught leaving the school grounds in some boy's car. I have to go meet with the principal because apparently this has happened before, but my ex-wife never thought she needed to tell me. And since she's on vacation with her new boyfriend _I'm_ the one that gets to deal with it."

I stared at Garrett, who looked like he was going to explode. I felt a sudden rush of sympathy to both he and his daughter. I didn't think things would be pretty when he got her alone.

"I'm sorry Garrett," I said, thinking that sounded incredibly lame.

The elevator opened with a ding and Garrett sighed. "Thanks, Jordan. I'll talk to you later."

"No problem," I said awkwardly.

Garrett stepped into the elevator and I walked down the hall to my office. I thought about my own dad and wondered if I used to stress him out as much as Garrett's daughter stressed Garrett out.

Used to, I thought with a little smirk. I still did.

Nothing new had come up, so after checking in with Bug I decided to head over to the precinct.

When I got off the elevator I almost ran smack into Woody, who was waiting to get on the elevator.

"Woody!" I said.

"Jordan!" he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I just came to see if anything new had come up on the Carlson case."

Woody shook his head. "No, nothing new. I have to go," he said abruptly.

"What is it?" I asked, finally noticing the look on his face. His jaw was clenched and he looked worried.

"There's been another murder. Seems to be similar to the Carlson case," Woody said, hitting the elevator button. It opened immediately and he stepped on. I followed him.

"I'll come with you," I said.

"Jordan," Woody said, and I just knew he was going to protest.

Just then my cell phone rang. I flipped it open. The call was coming from the office.

"Cavanaugh."

"Jordan, there's been another murder, seems like it might be like the Carlson case," Bug said.

"Yeah, I know."

"How do you know?" Bug asked, sounding puzzled.

"I'm with Woody. He's on the call and I'm going with him," I said.

"Oh, well, that's what I was calling for. To tell you to go. So never mind."

"Gotcha. Thanks Bug."

I hit the off button and stuck the phone in my pocket. "That was Bug telling me to go on this call."

Woody rolled his eyes. "Fine. Follow me."

"Okay," I said we reached our cars. Woody hopped into his and turned on his lights and siren. I followed close behind him.

The murder site was a small house on the outskirts of town in a nice middle class neighborhood. There were several police cars parked out front and, of course, the inevitable news vans.

We pulled in front of the house and got out of our cars. Several policemen stood holding back the press. I picked up my ME bag and followed Woody into the house.

We were greeted by a sight that was much like the one the day before in Lindsay Carlson's apartment.

Blood was splattered liberally throughout the living room. The body of a young woman with long blonde hair lay facedown on the carpet, blood pooled on the beige carpet underneath her.

The CSI's were busy at work, taking pictures and scouring the place for fingerprints.

"Do we have an id yet?" Woody asked one of the cops.

"Yeah. A, uh, Andrea Pearson, age thirty-three," the guy said looking at a clipboard. "Husband died about a year ago in a car crash, lives alone, no kids."

I had just crouched down next to the body when I heard the name. "What did you say the name was?" I asked, looking up, a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Andrea Pearson," the guy repeated, giving me a look like I was an idiot.

I slipped on a pair of latex gloves and gently turned the body over, my heart pounding.

"Oh, my God," I gasped as I saw her face.

"What?" Woody said immediately, crouching down next to me. "What is it?"

"I know her," I said faintly.

For the second time in as many days I was staring down at the dead body of one of my old high school friends.

(((well, what'd ya think? please review and let me know!)))


	4. People Huddle Together

Hello everyone!

A big thank you to: traceyh, Agel15, Kacie20 and jtbwriter for the reviews. I appreciate ya, you guys keep me motivated! :) I've been on a roll the past few days.

An FYI..the time frame of this story is somewhere in Season 2, after Jordan and Woody go to California, but before things get really involved with her brother and all of that.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Crossing Jordan. Dang it.

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It took me twenty minutes and every once of persuasion that I had to get Woody to let me stay. In the end it was probably only because I told him that it was Nigel's day off and Macy was out of the office and if he waited for someone it could be hours that convinced him to let me stay.

"Jordan," he said in his best stern detective voice, "You know that this could be considered a conflict of interest. This makes two of your friends that have ended up dead."

I looked up from where I was crouched on the floor next to the body. "Neither of them were exactly what I would call 'friends'. More like acquaintances. I haven't even seen her since high school. The last time I even heard from her was when I got a wedding invitation years ago."

"I know, but DA Wolcott already..."

"Oh geez, Woody. You know she has it in for me," I said disgustedly.

"I know that, Jordan. But she is still the DA, and I still have to answer to her."

"Yeah, I know," I said. "But I was the ME that got the call, so it's fine. Relax."

Woody heaved a large sigh. Then he decided to drop it and asked, "So what's the TOD?"

"Approximately five a.m.," I answered.

"Five a.m. And the Carlson woman was killed at about two a.m." Woody stated. "And there's no forced entry here either."

It didn't take me long to find out that this case seemed identical to the Carlson case. I found almost no forensic evidence. Her chest was a mass of stab wounds; a bloody kitchen knife that matched a set in the kitchen lay a few feet from the body. Again, she had not been raped, but she had been badly beaten.

I stood up and sighed loudly. "There's nothing more I can do here," I said. "We'll have to get the body to the office and get an autopsy done."

Woody nodded. "Let me know if you find anything."

"Yeah. You too," I said as I turned to go back to the van.

"And Jordan?" Woody said suddenly.

"Yeah?" I said, turning around.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Sure, Woody. I'm fine," I said.

"Okay. You can call me, you know. If you need to talk or anything," he said, his eyes serious.

"Thanks farm-boy," I said lightly, punching him in the arm.

As I turned to walk away and saw him sigh and shake his head.

X

An hour and a half later I was slipping a pair of scrubs on over my clothes, preparing for the autopsy of Andrea Beasley. Bug had been more than a little startled to hear that, once again, I knew the victim. Not to mention the fact that the MO was the same as with the Carlson case. Bug didn't think I should be doing the autopsy, but he was in the middle of one, Garrett hadn't gotten back from strangling his daughter yet, and we were a little short staffed, so there wasn't much that he could say.

"I don't like this, Jordan," Bug had said in his typically monotone voice. It was hard, really, to tell when Bug was upset about anything, but a certain inflection in his voice said he was not pleased.

"I know, Bug, but _you_ called _me_, remember?" I said.

"Yes, but I didn't know that you knew the vic."

"I know, but it doesn't matter. We were friends in high school, I haven't seen her in like fifteen years."

Bug had just sighed and given up, as I knew he would. He wasn't the most confrontational of people.

By the time I had finished the autopsy I was so frustrated that I thought I just might explode. Once again I had found absolutely nothing.

After I cleaned up I took off the scrubs and went back to my office. I sat at my desk and spread all of the information that I had on both cases out on my desk. Woody called to report that there was no new evidence of yet, and to give me the details of Amanda Beasley's life that they had uncovered.

Nigel was right. There was no such thing as a perfect murder. Somewhere, somehow, there was more evidence. How to find it was another story.

Both of the women had gone to Burke High, the same high school that I went to. They were the same age, had graduated the same year. I had no idea if they had still been in contact. Lindsay hadn't mentioned Andrea when we had talked, but that didn't mean anything.

Other than their ages, the high school and the fact that they had been friends in high school, I could see no other similarities I the two women, at least on the surface.

Lindsay Carlson had been single, never married. She had a good paying job as an administrative assistant in an accounting firm and she lived in an upscale apartment complex. She had been slender, with long red hair and green eyes.

Andrea Beasley had been recently widowed, worked nights at an airline, doing reservations. Her husband had a small amount of life insurance and she was still paying off the small house, which was in a middle class neighborhood. Andrea was slightly overweight, had blonde hair and blue eyes.

What was their connection? I wondered. Or was it just a coincidence that they had been friends in high school?

I was so lost in thought that when there was a knock on my door I jumped, startled.

"C'mon in," I said and Garrett walked through the door.

"Another friend of yours, I hear," he said, getting right to the point.

"Been talking to Bug again, eh?" I said lightly.

"Yes, he told me," Garrett said. "Did you find anything?"

I sighed. "No, nothing. It's almost an exact copy of the Carlson murder. Beaten, stabbed to death with a knife from her own kitchen. No forced entry, no defensive wounds. Nothing, Garrett."

Garrett's brown furrowed with thought. "There has to be something. Why don't you track down Woody and go over the autopsies with him, go over the CSI reports."

I nodded. "Sure thing, boss," I said. Garrett nodded and turned to leave. "Oh, and Garrett...."

"Yes?" he said.

"How'd things go with Abby?" I asked.

Garrett took a deep breath. "As well as can be expected when dealing with an emotional seventeen year-old."

"That good, huh?"

"Well, I grounded her indefinitely."

I winced. "Is she speaking to you?"

"No."

"And how long until Maggie gets back?" I asked.

"Another week."

"Ouch," I said. "Well, good luck."

"Yeah, thanks Jordan," Garrett said sarcastically as he turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

I shook my head and stood up. I gathered both autopsies, went to the copier and made copies, returned the originals to the crypt and tucked the copies into a folder. I went back to my office to grab my jacket and was ambushed by Lily as I hurried to the elevator.

"Hi, Jordan," Lily said as she popped around a corner, as if she had been waiting for me.

"Hey, Lil," I said as I kept walking down the hall towards the elevator.

Lily walked next to me, hurrying to keep up. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"To find Woody. I want to go over the autopsies with him, see if they found anything new," I replied.

"I was wondering if you wanted to grab something to eat before you go."

I turned around, my mouth open to tell her no, thanks, when I saw the look on her face.

I could see how concerned she was for me, and my rejection died on my lips.

"Well, I'm kinda in a hurry," I hedged.

"I know. It can be something quick."

We had reached the elevator and I hit the down button. "Sure, Lily," I said with a sigh. I was actually pretty hungry and if I was going to stop to eat something, I might as well go with Lily. Let her counsel me and get it over with. Kill two birds with one stone as the saying goes.

"So I heard that you knew Andrea Beasley," Lily said as we stood in line at Alphonso's, a little deli just down from the office.

"Yeah, I knew her in high school. Haven't seen her since, though," I said. Without warning I remembered the three of us, Andrea, Lindsay and me, along with some other friends, at a dance in high school, laughing and having a good time. We had been young and full of dreams. Who would have thought things would end up like this?

"Are you okay?" Lily asked when I said nothing more.

"Yeah, of course. I'm fine," I said automatically. My standard answer to everything.

"It's okay to be upset you know," Lily said quietly.

"I'm not upset, okay?" I snapped. "Not like that. I'm just upset that there's not more evidence."

Lily looked down and I immediately felt bad for ripping her head off. She was just trying to help.

"I'm sorry, Lil," I said with a sigh. "I'm just frustrated."

"That's okay, Jordan," Lily said quietly. "I just want to be there for you if you need to talk."

"Yeah, okay. I'll remember that," I said with a falsely bright smile.

We had reached the front of the line by then and we placed our orders. Still feeling guilty I paid for Lily's lunch, despite her protests.

When we were finally seated with our lunches, Lily with an eggplant sandwich, me with a turkey melt, I was starting to get edgy. I wanted to talk to Woody. I wanted to go back to the crime scene. I wanted to do _something._

I took a deep breath, though, and ate my lunch, trying not to act as agitated as I was.

It didn't take us long to eat, and then we stood up. "Thanks for lunch, Jordan," Lily said as we walked towards the door.

"No problem," I said. I was just about to go through the door when Lily said, "Hang on, I left my phone on the table. I turned around and watched as she darted back to our table, picked up her phone and hurried back. I turned around to open the door and ran smack into a guy that was already going out the door.

"Oof," I said as I collided with the guy. "Oh my God, I'm sorry!" I said as the guy staggered back a step and tried not to drop his sandwich and drink.

The guy grinned down at me. "Hey, it's alright," he said. "It's not often that I'm run over by a gorgeous woman."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever," I said. Then I gave him a surreptitious look out of the corner of my eye.

He was hot, no doubt about that. He was tall and lean with long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. He had sky blue eyes and a charming grin. He was dressed casually in a pair of faded jeans, a white t-shirt and a black motorcycle jacket. There was something vaguely familiar about him.

"Do I know you?" I asked.

The guy raised an eyebrow and I immediately realized that no matter how innocently I meant it, that sounded very much like a cliché pickup line.

"I don't think so. I think I'd remember someone as gorgeous as you," he replied with a laugh, tossing back an equally cliché response and I laughed.

"My name's Andrew Lloyd," he said, looking at me intensely.

"Jordan Cavanaugh," I said. "Oh, and this is my friend, Lily Libowski," I said, motioning towards Lily who was watching the exchange amusedly.

"Hey," Lily said with a bright smile.

"Nice to meet you," Andrew said. "Both of you."

"Nice to meet you, too," Lily said. Then she glanced behind her. "I think we're holding up the line."

"Oh, sorry 'bout that," Andrew said and he held the door open as we walked outside into the brisk autumn day.

"I've gotta get back to the office," Lily said. She gave me a subtle, pointed look. "Talk to you later."

"Yeah, thanks Lil," I said.

Lily gave a little wave to Andrew and walked off towards the office.

"Hey, Jordan," Andrew said as he stood in front of me. "Would you like to go to get a drink tonight?"

"Uh," I said.

Andrew looked deflated. "You have a boyfriend, of course," he said. "No problem."

I thought briefly about Woody, about our steamy little make out session in the middle of the Mojave Desert not too long ago. Boyfriend? Not that I was aware of. Did I want him to be my boyfriend? Was our lack of a relationship due entirely to my fear of commitment and fear of rejection? That was a can of worms I had no intention of opening up.

"Nah, I don't have a boyfriend," I said, shoving down the little feeling of guilt that was trying to make itself known. Woody had never discussed wanting a relationship with me, I had nothing to feel guilty about. "A drink sounds great."

Andrew smiled, "Great!" he said.

We exchanged phone numbers and planned to meet at the Pogue, my dad's bar. I didn't tell him it was my dad's bar, though.

"I'm glad I ran into you, Jordan Cavanaugh," Andrew said with another charming grin.

"See you later," I said, smiling. He definitely was hot.

Andrew turned and walked down the street opposite of where I was going. Where was I going?

To the precinct, I thought, cursing myself for getting distracted. I started walking, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket to call Woody. Hopefully he was still there.

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	5. Let's Start A Fire

Hi all!

Big thanks to: kacie20, agel15, pol & Halie for the reviews. I appreciate it so much!

Heres Chapter 5, hope you enjoy!! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Jordan and the rest.

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"So there's nothing," I said with a sigh.

"Not yet. We're still working on the phone records, talking to their acquaintances. But for now there's nothing to indicate that they were in contact."

"So what's their connection?" I said.

Woody shrugged. "They knew each other in high school. That's all we've come up with."

"Huh. What about the CSU? Did they find anything in the Beasley house?"

"Not yet. Several fingerprints, as yet most of them are still unidentified."

"Hmm. I don't suppose there's one there that matches that unidentified one in the Carlson apartment?" I asked hopefully.

Woody shook his head. "Nope."

"Damn," I said, shaking my head.

Woody sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Well, hopefully something will come up."

"Yeah. I hope so," I said, burning with irritation that there was nothing else I could do.

We had been hours scouring the reports, going over every detail to try to find any connection, any little minute detail that could lead us to the killer, and there was nothing. We had sketchy guesses, like that they both knew their killer, but that was a stretch. Just because there was no forced entry didn't mean they knew the killer. How many times had a killer posed as a deliveryman or something like that? True, the times were not those of normal deliverymen, but in the case of the Carlson killing, maybe she thought she was opening the door to the apartment super.

Woody stood up. "I'm done for the day. Nothing more to do tonight," he said.

"Yeah. I should get going," I said.

"Hey, you want to go grab a bite to eat?" Woody asked as he neatly stacked the papers on his desk.

I went to say yes when I remembered I was meeting Andrew in-I checked my watch-less than an hour.

"I can't, Woody, but thanks," I said.

"Are you going back to the office?" he asked. "I could meet you later."

I felt a little twinge of guilt, which I shoved down. "Nah, I'm not going back to the office."

Woody stared at me, confused. "What, not eating today or something?"

"I uh, well, I have other plans, Woody," I said, not quite catching his eye.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" he said suspiciously.

"Yeah."

"Oh. Well, okay then. I guess I'll talk to you later," Woody said coolly. "Call me if anything new comes up."

"Yeah, you too. See ya."

"See ya," Woody replied, but he didn't look up from the pile of papers on his desk.

I hovered in the doorway for another minute before I turned and walked out. No doubt Woody knew my 'plans' involved another guy and now he was all upset about it.

Well, I told myself as I savagely pushed the down button, if he wanted to be anything more than friends he sure hadn't told me, so I couldn't worry about it.

A little over an hour later I opened the door to The Pogue, my dad's bar. I was wearing a pair of jeans and a low cut v-neck white tee shirt and a black leather jacket.

It was busy for a Thursday night, I noticed with satisfaction. I looked around and spotted Andrew's blonde head at a little table kitty corner to the bar.

"Jordan, what brings you here?" my dad, Max Cavanaugh, said in his thick Boston accent as he spotted me. He was behind the bar, towel in hand, drying a glass.

"Hey, Dad," I said as I walked up to the bar. "Just meeting someone."

"Detective Hoyt?" he asked expectantly.

"Nah," I said and my dad's face fell. "Just a guy."

"Jordan, there you are," Andrew said as he sidled up to me at the bar.

"Hey Andrew. How's it going?"

"Better now," he said melodramatically.

I snorted. "Oh, please."

I caught dad's eye. He was looking at me, eyebrows raised, obviously waiting for an introduction.

"Uh, Andrew, this is my dad, Max Cavanaugh. He owns this place. Dad, this is Andrew Lloyd."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Andrew said, shaking my dad's hand. "This is a great place you've got here. Jordan didn't tell me we were going to her dad's place."

Dad laughed. "That's Jordan for ya. Full of surprises, that one."

They had a nice laugh at my expense and I rolled my eyes. Andrew had already ordered a drink, so I asked for my regular and my dad handed me a Guinness. "C'mon, Andrew," I said. "Are you up for a game of pool?"

"Sure," he replied with a grin.

We grabbed our drinks and went to the back room to get a pool table.

X

Four hours later Andrew and I were sitting at a corner table, talking. It was after midnight and I should have been tired, but the beer was keeping me going. We had played three games of pool, which I had lost spectacularly. Turned out Andrew was some kind of pool shark.

"I used to play all the time growing up," he said. "We had a pool table in the basement."

"You should have told me you were a pro, I wouldn't have bet you," I said with a laugh. I had lost track of the amount of Guinness I had drank, but I knew it was up there.

"What's the fun in that?" Andrew asked. "Then I would have had to buy my own drinks."

"Cheater," I said.

Andrew laughed, but in the end he paid for all of the drinks, as well as the order of potato skins we had split. Healthy eating, I thought as I dipped a greasy potato skin in sour cream.

"Did you grow up here in Boston?" I asked.

"No, I was born in a little coastal town in Maine," he replied. He was slowly peeling the label off of his bottle of Heineken.

"What do you do for a living?" I asked around a mouthful of potato skin.

"I'm an accountant," he replied.

"Ahh. A bean counter, huh?" For some reason Andrew, with his long hair and leather jacket didn't seem to fit the profile of a nerdy accountant.

"That's right," he replied. "And where do you work, Jordan?" he asked.

There it was, the inevitable million dollar question. I took a swig of my beer. It never failed. Whenever that question came up, people reacted one of two ways. Either they were okay with it or else it weirded them out so much that they couldn't handle being around me. Usually the latter unless they were in a field that involved blood or crime like a doctor or a cop. How many grossed out looks had I gotten in the time I was an ME? I couldn't begin to count.

I sat my bottle down and leaned my elbows on the table. I leaned over. "I'm a medical examiner," I said.

Andrew was silent and his face was blank. "Really?"

"Yeah," I said, wondering if he would suddenly remember that he had somewhere else to be.

"So you cut up dead people?"

I sighed. "Yup."

"Huh. What made you decide to do that?" he asked, looking intrigued.

"Well, my dad was a cop, retired now, and I've always been interested in crime and forensics. But I knew I didn't want to be a cop, so I ended up at the ME office."

"Wow. I don't know how you could do it," he said, giving me an admiring look. "I couldn't do it, that's for sure."

I laughed. "It's not for everyone," I admitted. "But I love what I do."

"I'd think you'd have to or you couldn't do it."

I relaxed. It seemed like he wasn't going to bolt, so I took another swig of my beer. The bar was packed and someone was playing an old Depeche Mode song on the jukebox. It was nice, getting away from everything, even if it was just for a while.

We talked for a while longer, then Andrew finally said, "I really hate to say this, but I should probably get going. I have an early appointment tomorrow," he said, looking down at his watch. "I have to be up in about five hours."

"Oh, poor baby," I said with a smirk.

Andrew laughed and stood up. "Can I take you home?" he asked.

"Sure, thanks," I said, chugging the rest of my Guinness. I had drunk about double what he had and was feeling pretty good and buzzed.

Andrew helped me into my jacket and we walked to the bar.

"See you later, dad," I said.

"Good night, Jordan," he said, giving me a pointed look, one that probably meant he was wondering if I was okay leaving with Andrew.

I smiled and nodded my head a little.

"It was nice to meet you, Sir," Andrew said, shaking my dad's hand again.

"You too," dad replied. "Take care."

We walked outside, hit by the brisk night air. Andrew led us down the street a little way and stopped in front of a brand new, shiny red Harley-Davidson Sportster.

"Wow," I said admiringly. "Nice bike."

"Thanks," Andrew said with a grin. He handed me a helmet and put his on. He hopped onto the bike and I climbed on behind him. I'd always wanted to buy a bike, just had never gotten around to it.

He swivelled around. "Where to?"

I gave him directions to my apartment, and then held on as the bike roared to life and we sped through the mostly empty streets.

When we got to my building he pulled up to the curb and shut the bike off. We got off and walked to the door. Andrew looked down at me. "I had a good time tonight, Jordan," he said.

"Yeah, so did I. Even though you're a cheater."

Andrew laughed and then suddenly things went silent. He looked down at me, his blue eyes intense. It was obvious that he was going to kiss me and for a split second I was tempted to let him. I'd had one night stands before, it was nothing new to me. But that guilty part of me was saying, 'What about Woody?' and I took a step back. 'You were just making out with him not too long ago.'

Yeah, I'd had one night stands before and I always felt like shit afterwards and I was definitely too drunk to think straight. My life was screwed up enough and even in my drunken state I knew I didn't need another complication.

I gave a little laugh that sounded fake even to me. "I, uh, better get upstairs," I said. "I have to work early tomorrow ya know."

Andrew looked disappointed but smiled easily. "No problem. Can I call you sometime, Jordan Cavanaugh?" he asked softly.

"Sure," I said and fumbled through my purse for a business card. I handed him a kind of crumpled one. "My cell's my main phone," I said.

He tucked it into his wallet and handed me one of his. "Here's mine, if you want it."

"Thanks," I said. "And thanks for the drinks."

"Anytime," Andrew said. He stood there for another second and then turned and walked back to his bike.

((((what did ya think? please review and let me know!!!))


	6. One Big Shadow

Hello everyone! Thanks for stopping by.

Thanks to: kacie20, agel15 & pol for your reviews. Thanks for taking time to review!! I'm so glad you like my story.....

Disclaimer....nope, I still don't own CJ or the characters....

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I watched Andrew walk back to his bike. My heart was racing and I forced myself to take a deep breath. I congratulated myself on my restraint and walked up to my apartment, alone.

X

I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. With the combination of Guinness, lack of real food (four potato skins don't count as real food, in my opinion), and lack of sleep, I was not feeling too well. On top of all of that, I was almost a half hour late getting up, having not heard my alarm.

"God damn it," I grumbled as I threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt. I hurried to the kitchen and took four aspirin, and then hurried to the car.

Even though I was already late I stopped by a little bagel shop and got a giant cup of coffee and a bagel before going to the office.

I stepped off the elevator and, of course, immediately ran into Garrett. "Uh. Hey Garrett," I said.

"Jordan. Late again, I see," he stated.

"Yeah. Have to make up for being early yesterday," I said. "Can't have you thinking that's going to be a regular thing."

Garrett rolled his eyes. "A guy was brought in an hour ago, killed in a car accident. He was weaving before he hit a telephone pole. I need you to do the autopsy; Nigel and Bug are both on calls. It's shaping up to be a busy day."

I nodded. Until there was any more information on the Carlson and Beasley cases, there was nothing more I could do about them anyway. With a sigh I headed to my office, hoping my headache would go away soon, otherwise it would no doubt be a long day.

X

And a long day it was. One after another bodies were brought in. I kept expecting to see another young girl, but there wasn't. By the time the day was over I was exhausted and my headache had stuck with me all day.

I was in my office, staring down at the Carlson and Beasley autopsy reports, trying to keep my eyes focused when there was a tap on my doorframe. I looked up to see Nigel hovering in the doorway.

"Hey, Nige. C'mon in," I said, waving a hand towards the chair that sat across from my desk. Nigel Townsend was my best friend in the office. We had gone out a few times, realized that we made better friends than anything else and had settled comfortably into being just friends.

"Jordan," Nigel said as he sat down, looking awkward as he folded his tall frame into the small chair. "How are you doing, luv? You've looked a little peaked all day today."

I sighed. "I'm alright," I said. "Just have a hangover headache that won't go away and I'm frustrated with the lack of evidence on those two cases," I said, knowing he'd know which cases I was referring to.

"A hangover?" Nige asked. "You went out partying and didn't invite me, eh? What, you go with Woodrow and didn't want me crashing the party?"

I shook my head. "No, I didn't go with Woody."

"Ooh," Nigel said, raising his eyebrows. "And who _did_ you go with, pray tell?"

"Just a guy I met yesterday. We just got a drink, played some pool, no big deal," I said casually.

"And what is this guy's name?"

"Andrew Lloyd," I said. "He's an accountant."

"An accountant?" Nigel laughed. "Oh, luv, you must be bad off."

"Nigel!" I said, throwing a pen at him.

"Joking, joking," he said, holding up his hands. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, it was fun," I said.

"And what does dear Woodrow think of all of this?"

I shrugged, ignoring that annoying little voice again. I figured it was probably my conscience, but I had never listened to it before so why start now? I thought. "I don't know what he thinks about it. Who I date is none of his business."

There was a pause. Nigel looked at me thoughtfully. "Oh. Right, then. So, you gonna go out with the accountant again?"

"Yeah, I think so. We had fun. He has a Harley."

"Oh, well, by all means, he must be a keeper," Nigel said with a grin.

"Oh, shut up Nigel," I said.

"Can I take you out for a bite, luv?" Nigel asked. "You look like you need to eat and go to bed."

I smiled ruefully. "Yeah, I think that's the best idea. I'm too tired to focus anymore."

Nigel waited patiently as I gathered up the autopsy reports and put them away. My office was a mess, but there was no way I was staying any longer, so I just grabbed my jacket and followed Nigel to the elevators.

We met at one of those 24 hour diners that serve cheap, fast, greasy food. It was a quiet meal, since not only was I tired and had a headache, but I was preoccupied with the murders. When we were done we headed our separate ways and I went straight back to my apartment and crashed.

X

Two days went by quietly, at least as quietly as days can go by when you cut up dead people for a living. My day off was Sunday and despite the fact that I wanted to work on the murders, I stayed home and lounged around and caught up on sleep. Garrett had told me when I left late Saturday night that I was by no means to set foot in the office on my day off.

I didn't hear from either Woody or Andrew all weekend.

Monday morning dawned with cold, drizzly rain. When I arrived at the office Nigel, But and Lily were standing around the break room eating Krispy Kreme donuts and drinking coffee.

"Busy I see," I stated, taking an original glazed and pouring a cup of the stale coffee that was an office staple.

"Not too busy yet, luv," Nigel said through a mouthful of donut.

I bit into my donut just as Garrett came into the break room, looking solemn. "Jordan," he said. "There's been another murder."

The room fell silent at his words.

"It's confirmed that she graduated from Burke High, her husband found her this morning. He claims to have been out of town for the weekend, came back this morning and found her body."

"What's her name?" I asked, my voice tight.

"Lisa Smith, maiden name Donovan."

I felt my face drain of color even as I tried to keep my expression neutral.

"You knew her," Garrett stated, looking at me carefully.

"Yeah, I, uh, I knew her," I said.

Lily walked over to me and put her hand on my arm. "Were you close?" she asked.

I shrugged. "We were friends," I said.

"Oh, Jordan, I'm sorry," Lily said sympathetically.

I looked at Garrett. "I'll go on the call," I said.

Garrett shook his head, "I'm sorry, Jordan, but I can't let you go."

"What?" I said incredulously. "You have to, Garrett."

"No, Jordan, I don't," Garrett growled. "The press is all over this, they're calling the killer the Burke Alum Killer. If they see you at the scene and connect you to the vics things could get ugly. Nigel, I want you and Bug to go."

"You can't do this, Garrett! I'm the lead ME on this case," I said, my voice raising.

Looking guilty Bug and Nigel slunk out of the room, and Lily made her escape right behind them.

"Come to my office," Garrett said, and I followed him down the hall, fuming. Garrett sat at his desk and I sat in a chair across from him, arms folded and glowering.

"DA Wolcott has already been on the phone with me about this. She's furious that you did the second autopsy. She wants you off this case."

"Garrett!" I said loudly. I stood up, my hands clenched into fists at my side. "She said if there was a misstep. I haven't done anything, you can't take me off of this case!"

"Jordan, I said that _she_ wants you off the case, not that_ I_ was taking you off of the case. Calm down," Garrett said.

Sheepishly I said, "Oh. Okay," and sat back down.

"She's going to be all over this, Jordan. It looks like we have a serial killer on our hands. And all of the victims went to high school with you, were friends of yours. I'm not sure that I disagree with her that you shouldn't be the lead ME on this case."

"But..." I said.

Garrett held up his hand. "But I don't agree with her that you should be off the case. You are a damn good ME, Jordan. You care more, put more of yourself into your cases than anyone else. Which is the exact reason I don't know that you should be any closer to this case than you are already."

I digested his words. "Why, because I knew the vics?" I asked slowly.

"Yes," Garrett said. "And because I know what happens when you get too drawn into a case that's personal."

I digested that, thinking of the many different instances he could mean by his words. I sighed. "So what do you want to do?"

"I want you to assist the autopsies. I want you to go by the book, do your job and leave the investigating to the detectives. Detective Hoyt is lead detective, I'm sure he'll keep you in the loop as much as he can. I don't want you to set foot in this latest victim's home, understand? Wolcott is going to be in the middle of this, I don't want there to be problems."

I gritted my teeth angrily. Garrett had a particularly stubborn look on his face and I could tell that any further arguing would be futile.

"Fine," I said.

"Now, I'm sure you have paperwork you need to catch up on. I'll make sure Nigel lets you know when they're ready to start the autopsy.

I nodded. "Fine," I said and turned and stalked out of the room.

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	7. People Act Real Crazy

Big hugs and thanks to: kacie20, Dani and Agel15 for your reviews. I soooo appreciate you taking the time to review and let me know what you think! I'm glad you enjoy my story!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the CJ characters

Now, onto Chapter 7........

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I went back to my office and shut the door with a little more force than necessary. I remembered that I had left my coffee in the break room. I sighed, but didn't want to run into Lily, who would no doubt think I needed to 'talk' about things. She tried hard, bless her, but I was not the type who wanted to talk about her feelings. I just wanted to be left alone.

With another sigh I settled down at my desk and stared at the mound of paperwork awaiting me. Autopsies that needed to be signed off on, a whole stack of filing that I had to actually take to Emmy to file. Of all the things that my job entailed, paperwork was the worst. But on the plus side, it didn't require much concentration, which left me free to mull over the 'Burke Alum Killings'.

Over an hour later I was sitting at my desk, pen in hand, ready to sign a paper. I had been sitting that way for the better part of the hour and hadn't signed my name once, lost in thought as I was.

My phone rang shrilly, breaking the silence and making me jump. I fumbled through the strewed papers and found the phone. I flipped it open.

"Cavanaugh here," I said without looking to see who was calling.

"Jordan, how are you?" asked a rich, familiar male voice.

"Oh, hey Andrew. How's it going?" I said, my heart beating a little faster.

"Oh, you know. Same old same old," he replied. "I'm so sorry I didn't call you this weekend, but my sister was her from Rhode Island and I spent the weekend with her and her kids."

"No problem," I said, leaning back in my chair.

"I was wondering if I could coax you out into the rain to have lunch with me?" he asked. "I'm just a few blocks away at a clients' and should be leaving around noon."

My heart sank. "I wish I could, but I have an autopsy coming in any time and I'm sure it'll take me way past noon," I said.

"Well, damn," he said. "I guess that work is a good enough excuse, though. Well, how about dinner? There's a great little Italian place not too far from your apartment, it's called Luigi's."

"I love that place. My dad and I used to go there all the time," I said. "I think that would be fine..."

My voice trailed off as there was a tap on my door. I looked up to see Woody opening the door and walking in.

"That would be fine, but..." Andrew said when I didn't finish.

"No, uh, that would be fine. Dinner sounds great. I'll give you a call when I get off work," I said, looking down at my desk as if there was something fascinating there.

"Great! I'll talk to you then. Bye Jordan," he said.

"Yeah, bye," I said, and shut the phone and tossed it onto the desk.

Woody was giving me a definitely suspicious look. "Who was that?" he asked lightly.

"Oh, just a friend," I said nonchalantly.

"Does this friend have a name?" Woody asked.

"Does it matter?" I countered.

"No, Jordan. I guess it doesn't matter. I guess it never has mattered," Woody said sharply, scowling. "Anyway, I followed Nigel and Bug over here, they're ready for you."

I wanted to ask Woody what he meant by his comment, but my desire to start the autopsy won out and I stood up. "Okay, thanks."

Woody looked at me incredulously and shook his head. "Yeah, no problem," he said and turned and walked down the hall.

With an annoyed sigh I followed him down the hall. After I slipped a pair of scrubs over my clothes I put on a pair of rubber gloves and joined Bug, Nigel and Woody in the autopsy room.

They had her laid out on a table, but they were waiting for me. I looked down at her face and forced myself to remain expressionless.

I hadn't thought it was possible, but it seemed that with each murder our killer was getting more and more brutal.

Lisa Donovan Smith had been beaten so severely that it was almost impossible to tell what she had looked like. She had short curly black hair and pale skin. Her eyes were closed but I clearly remembered that they were deep blue. Of all of our friends Lisa had been the shyest. She had been the voice of reason among our group, the only one who hadn't drank, hadn't tried the many drugs we had all tried. She was our designated driver, a motherly sort that always watched out for us.

I hadn't even known she had gotten married. Probably I was out of state, and I had never bothered to keep in touch. I was filled with regret that I hadn't seen her, hadn't tried to keep contact.

I was startled out of my reverie when Nigel put his hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay, luv? You don't have to do this, you know."

I was horrified to realize that I had tears in my eyes. I blinked rapidly. "No, I'm fine," I said stubbornly. "Let's get started."

Nigel looked at me skeptically. Even Bug, who usually showed as much emotion as a fish was looking at me sympathetically. Woody was standing a few feet away, talking into his cell phone. "Are you certain?" Nigel persisted.

"Of course. C'mon, let's go," I said and brutally shoved my emotion down deep where it wouldn't bother me.

X

"I don't get it," I said as I yanked my rubber gloves off and tossed them into the trash.

"What don't you get?" Woody asked, the first time he had spoken to me since we had started the autopsy.

"How is he getting a knife from the victims' own kitchens? I mean, I think that it's obvious that the victims know, or at least are familiar with, the killer. There's no forced entry, there's no defensive wounds on any of the vics, which would point towards the fact that they were taken by surprise, they weren't threatened. But wouldn't you be a little bit nervous with someone with a kitchen knife in the living room?"

"Well, perhaps he was hiding it behind his back or something, took the vics totally by surprise," Bug suggested.

"Yeah...." I said. "The other thing that bugs me is, he beat the crap out of these women, and the wounds were inflicted while they were alive. Why are there no defensive wounds? I would think that they were drugged but the tox reports on the Carlson case came back negative."

"Well, when we catch the guy we'll ask him," Woody said.

I sighed. "Yeah...." I didn't say anything else. I wanted to discuss the case with my dad and decided I would meet him after dinner with Andrew.

"So how's her husband looking?" I asked. We had determined that she had been killed sometime between midnight Friday night and eight a.m. Saturday.

"Both the husband and daughter have airtight alibi's," Woody said.

"Daughter?" I repeated.

"Yeah....name's Eliza," Woody said. "She's sixteen."

"Where was she?" I asked.

"Well, hubby was out of town on a conference, we've cleared him. The daughter was spending the weekend with a friend; she wasn't due back home until after school today. Something about a big project. She's cleared, too," Woody said.

"I hardly think a sixteen year old is capable of this," I said, motioning towards Lisa Smith's body.

Woody, who was always uneasy during autopsy's, snapped, "I'm aware of that, Jordan. I was just telling you. You know as well as I do that in a murder it's a matter of process of elimination. Everyone's a suspect until they're cleared."

"Alright, alright," I said, shaking my head.

Nigel and Bug looked from me to Woody and back again, questions clear in their eyes. "Well, I-uh, think it's time for me and Buggles to go...somewhere...." Nigel said. He pulled Bug out of the room.

Woody and I stared at each other. "I have work to do," I said and turned to gather the printout of the autopsy report.

"Of course you do," Woody said sarcastically.

I whirled around. "What is_ that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, Jordan. It doesn't mean anything."

"Fine, whatever," I said.

"So are you dating this guy now?" Woody asked suddenly.

I stared at him and saw the slight twitching of a muscle in his jaw, which was clenched.

"No I'm not _dating_ him," I said.

Silence.

"I'm not, we've been out once and we're going out to dinner tonight, that's it," I said, wondering vaguely why I was explaining myself to Woody.

"Fine," Woody said. "I have to get back to the precinct."

"Fine," I replied.

There was another moment of silence in which we stared at each other, then Woody turned and stormed out of the office, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

I heaved a deep sigh and was gathering up the papers when the door to the autopsy room opened and Garrett walked in. "What was that all about? Detective Hoyt just stormed down the hall."

"Yeah, I know."

"Why?" Garrett asked.

I sighed. "I don't want to talk about it," I said.

Garrett stared at me for a minute then shook his head slightly. "Are you ready to go over the autopsy? Renee is on her way over, I don't want you to be around when she does. I'll tell her what she needs to know."

Any other time I might have argued that, but I was too tired to. "Okay," I said and followed Garrett back to his office.

Once we were done going over the autopsy Garrett sent me home. He said he didn't want me in the same building as Renee Wolcott. Again, any other time I might have argued that, but the combined stress of the deaths and the little situation with Woody had me just too tired to argue anymore.

I went back to my apartment and soaked in a hot tub until my skin was wrinkly and I felt somewhat relaxed. I called Andrew at around six o'clock and we planned to meet at seven.

I changed into a pair of tight black pants and a bright red low cut shirt. I studied my reflection in the bathroom mirror, looking critically at the eyes I thought were too small and the nose that I thought was too big. I threw on a little bit of make up and figured that it was as good as it would get and grabbed my purse and jacket and headed to Luigi's.

It was still raining, just a slight drizzle, as I walked the two blocks to the restaurant. I could have driven, but parking was a bitch and I didn't feel like riding in a stuffy cab, so I walked, head bent forward against the rain, staying beneath the eaves as much as possible.

Despite that, I was pretty wet when I arrived at Luigi's. Andrew was standing just inside the door, which he swung open for me as I walked up.

"Hi, Jordan," he said with an amiable smile.

"Hey, Andrew," I replied. He looked at me expectantly, probably wanting a hug, but as I'm not the most huggable of people I just smiled and walked into the restaurant.

Once we were seated Andrew asked me about my weekend and told me about his weekend with his sister and his niece and nephew who were thirteen and ten.

"So is your sister older or younger than you?" I asked as the waiter set a steaming plate of manicotti in front of me.

"Older. I have five older sisters," Andrew said.

"Wow. Big family. Must have been hard for you growing up with all of those girls. I bet you and your Dad hung out a lot," I said.

"Yeah....my father died when I was three so I don't really remember him."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "It's hard to lose a parent."

"Yeah, it is. You sound like you speak from experience."

"I do," I said. "My mom died when I was ten."

"I'm sorry, Jordan. That must have been so hard for you," he said sympathetically.

You have no idea, I thought. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Your dad seems cool though. You said he's a retired cop."

"Yeah," I said. Suddenly I was uncomfortable with the subject. I didn't like to talk about myself as a general rule, and this was getting a little too personal for my taste.

"So, what kind of music do you listen to?" I asked.

Andrew looked taken aback. "Uh, classic rock, mostly. I like the Stones, CCR, Journey. What about you?"

"Oh, I like mostly alternative, I really dig 80's alternative. You know, Depeche Mode, the Cure," I said.

"Huh," Andrew said. "Yeah, that fits."

I laughed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing bad, Jordan," he said with a smirk.

After we finished eating Andrew helped me into my jacket. "You want to catch a movie?" he asked as we stepped from the cozy pasta-scented warmth of Luigi's into the rainy, frigid Boston night.

"I can't, but thanks for asking. I have some work stuff I've gotta get done."

"Wow, I hope they're paying you over time, working at night like this."

I smiled. "Thanks for dinner," I said.

"No problem, Jordan. We should do it again."

"Definitely," I said.

"I'll talk to you later," Andrew said, and with that he reached over and hugged me.

I stiffened, but the hug was over with before I could do anything but stand there stupidly. Andrew grinned and waved as he walked off the opposite direction that I was going.

I watched him leave, conflicting emotions swirling inside of me.

((okay, so what did you think? Please review and let me know......more to come.....))


	8. Pray To The Cats Eye

Hiya everyone!

Big hugs and thanks out to: pol, kacie20, Agel15 and Sweet-Rush37 for the reviews. I've been on a writing spree the past few days, so here is Chapter 8. Please read and enjoy and don't forget to review! ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own the CJ characters, but Andrew is all mine!

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I walked back to my apartment and gathered up the folders that contained all of the information we had on the Burke murders. I tucked it into my briefcase and drove to The Pogue. To my surprise I found a prime parking spot right outside the door. I walked in, realizing that I had a while before the bar emptied out and I'd have time to talk to my dad alone.

The bar was packed when I walked in. I looked around for a table and couldn't find one, so I went up to the bar and found a seat against the wall next to an older guy nursing a beer. My dad came around as soon as he saw me.

"Jordan," he said in his thick Boston accent, which made my name sound like 'Jahden'. "What are you doing here?"

I shrugged. "Just wanted to get a drink," I said with a smile.

He eyed the briefcase I had leaning against the wall. "Uh huh."

"Okay," I admitted. "I want to go over a case with you. I didn't realize how early it was."

"I thought so. Are ya hungry? Do you want something to eat?"

"Nah, I just ate. I went to Luigi's with Andrew."

Dad looked surprised. "Andrew? You're still seeing him?"

I fought back a spurt of irritation. It seemed even my dad knew my tendency towards one night stands. "Yeah. Well, not _seeing_ him seeing him..."

Dad nodded. "Gotcha. You wanna beer?"

"Of course," I said and he poured me a Guinness.

"It's on the house," he said with a wink.

"Hey, thanks," I said and took a swig of the rich beer, relishing the slight burn as I swallowed.

Several hours and a couple of beers later the bar had emptied out. Dad locked up behind the last few customers. He poured us each a cup of coffee and then sank into a chair across the table from me.

"So, Jordan, what's going on?"

"Have you heard about the Burke High killings?" I asked.

Dad frowned. "I heard something, but there weren't many details."

"Yeah, they've been trying to keep it quiet, but I think it's about to blow," I said. I opened the briefcase and pulled out the files. I slid them across the table to my Dad who opened them up. Within minutes he looked up at me, his face revealing his shock.

"These are all friends of yours," he said.

"Yeah, I know," I said.

"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" he asked, his face reddening.

"Because I didn't want you to get upset. Obviously I was justified in thinking that you would be," I said wryly.

"Of course I would be! This is three of your close high school friends. I don't think this is just a coincidence," he said sharply.

I winced. "Yeah, I know."

"Dr Macey didn't keep you on this case did he?"

"Uh...Yes?" I said tentatively.

"You shouldn't be on this case! It's too close to you, Jordan! He should know that."

"Dad!" I said loudly. "Calm down. I want to be on this case. These are my friends we're talking about. I want to do what I can to help. Don't worry, I'm only assisting and I've been banned from doing any extra work."

Dad looked unconvinced. "Since when has that ever mattered to you before?"

I sighed. "I shouldn't have come," I said and started gathering up the folders.

Then it was Dad's turn to sigh. "No, no, Jordan. I want you to come to me. I'm sorry I overreacted. You're an adult; you can make your own decisions."

He didn't have to say it; I could clearly hear the 'no matter how stupid they are' that he longed to add.

"What did you want to talk to me about, exactly?" he asked.

I explained the case to him, every detail I could think of. When I was finished I said, "We haven't been able to find a connection between them except that they went to high school together."

"And they were friends of yours," Dad pointed out.

"Yeah, but that can't have anything to do with it," I said. Dad raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "There's no forced entry, so they either knew the killer or the killer was disguised as someone they trusted."

"Right, like a deliveryman or the apartment super," Dad said.

"Uh huh. But the other thing that bugs me is that he severely beat these women, and the wounds were made while they were still alive. Why didn't they fight back? There are no defensive wounds, nothing. _And_ he used a knife from their kitchen."

Dad was silent for a few minutes. He took a drink of his coffee. Then he scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"So there's nothing to indicate that these women had been in contact. No phone calls or anything," he said finally.

"Nothing."

"Well, let's not think about how they're connected right now. Let's concentrate on the killer. It's most likely someone you went to high school with."

"We figured that, but that narrows it down to every guy in like six years of school, if you cover every year we were in high school. They're starting with the guys that graduated the same year, but that could still take a while."

"You said he didn't rape the victims."

I shook my head.

"But he beat them severely and the stab wounds definitely point towards anger."

"Uh huh."

"Who could have a grudge against them?"

I thought. "I don't know, Dad, it's been fifteen years. We weren't in the popular group, I can't think of anyone we could have made angry. Besides, the guy didn't have to go to school with us. Maybe he got a hold of a yearbook and it's just coincidence that they happen to have all been friends."

"Yeah, that could be it too," Dad said, the skeptical look on his face showing how unlikely he thought it was. "As far as why they didn't fight back, you know that well over half of all victims of violent crime freeze up when faced with danger. They might have tried to fight back, but if the killer is a strong man, they wouldn't have much chance. One good punch would have had them out cold."

"So maybe they were knocked out when he stabbed them," I mused. "Spatter patterns show that they were on the floor when they were stabbed...."

"Well, maybe it went like this...." Dad said and we fell into one of our role playing whodunits. "The killer is posing as the apartment super. He knocks on the door, tells her that there's been a report of a gas leak and he has to check on it.....she opens up the door and he hits her, knocking her out."

"Then he goes into the kitchen and grabs a knife. He knows what he's doing so he uses gloves..."

Dad continued. "He starts beating her and stabbing her, taking out his anger on her. He leaves the knife because he figures that he hasn't left any evidence to point to him, and he leaves."

We were quiet for a few minutes, digesting that.

"Why don't you think that the killer could be a boyfriend or something?" Dad asked.

"There's nothing to indicate that they had boyfriends, and besides, Lisa Smith was married."

"Which doesn't mean anything," Dad pointed out.

"I know, but there's nothing, no unidentified phone calls, none of their friends or co-workers knew anything..." I said. "I don't think they could have kept it _that _secret."

"Well, I think that we have a good idea of how it happened," Dad said.

"Which doesn't get us any closer to the killer..." I said.

"No, it doesn't. But let the detectives do their job, they'll find something eventually."

If only that were true, I thought, thinking of the many cases that went unsolved.

"Alright, Dad. Thanks for going over this with me," I said with a sign as I gathered up the reports and stuffed them back into the briefcase.

"Sorry I couldn't be more help."

"It's fine, it was just good to talk it over," I said. "I'll talk to you later."

"Okay, Jordan. Drive safe," he said.

I smiled and walked out to my car. It had stopped raining, but the air was still bitterly cold as I climbed into my car and drove back to my apartment.

X

Once I was back at my apartment I took a long, hot shower and dressed in my most comfortable pair of sweats. I was kind of tired, but I knew I was too wound up to sleep, so I went into my room and dug underneath my bed for a minute and pulled out a dust covered box. I sat on the floor and opened it up.

Inside were some personal belongings, the only ones I still had. I couldn't even really say why I had taken them with me when I moved out, except that I was experiencing some nostalgia at the time.

I rummaged through the assorted papers and trinkets until, at the bottom of the box, I found my old high school yearbooks. I pulled them out and opened my senior year book.

A photo fell out and I picked it up. It was me and my five best friends, standing outside the high school on graduation day. I shivered when I realized that three of those girls were now dead.

I was in the middle. My hair was down to my waist and wavy. I was grinning crazily into the camera. On one side was Lindsay, on my other side, leaning on me and doing rabbit ears behind my head was Shannon O'Brien, her dark red hair curling wildly. Lisa Donovan and Andrea Larsen were laughing, looking down, and Darcie Williams, her brown hair cut in a short pageboy, was sitting cross legged in front of us. We were all wearing the clothes of the times, bell bottom jeans and tee-shirts.

I remembered that day. It was the day we had all pledged to be friends forever, to not let graduation and college and life come between us.

But it had. Of all of my high school friends, Shannon O'Brien had been the only one that I had kept in contact with, talking several times a year and getting together for lunch once in a while. We had been the closest out of our group of friends, having known each other since Grade School. I didn't really have friends outside of work, as a rule, but Shannon had always been the exception. She had gone to law school while I went to medical school and had become a well respected attorney. I hadn't talked to her since I had gotten back into Boston, though. She had been engaged the last time I had talked to her.

And then there was Darcie Williams. I hadn't seen or heard from her in years. I didn't know if she was married or even if she still lived in Boston.

I stared down at the picture. There wasn't anything I could do to help Lisa, Lindsay and Andrea, except to help find the killer. But if Darcie and Shannon were in danger I was going to do everything in my power to track them down.

((don't forget to review!!!! thank you thank you thank you!!!!!))


	9. Out For The Hunt

Once again, I have been writing like a maniac! I'm glad you guys like the quick updates, and I will continue to post quickly as long as my CJWB (Crossing Jordan Writers Block) doesn't hit!

Big thanks to: Agel15, pol, kacie 20 & Rinny J for the reviews and the constructive criticism. I really appreciate it!!!! Your reviews keep me motivated and the constructive criticism helps me to improve, I hope! :)

Anyways: onto chapter 9......

Disclaimer: I do not own the CJ characters, but Andrew and Jordan's friends are all mine.....!

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To my amazement I woke up early the next morning. I hadn't slept very well and thought for sure that I would sleep in. But I guess it was my nervous energy that woke me up before my alarm went off.

I rushed to get dressed and headed to work, stopping to get my regular cup of coffee. When I got to work I went straight to Nigel's desk, glad I could count on him to almost always be at his desk. It was kind of like he lived there

"Nige, I need a favor," I said abruptly.

"Good morning to you, too, luv," he said without looking up from whatever he was doing at his computer.

"Good morning Nigel. How are you today?" I said sarcastically.

"Well, now, luv, that's not exactly friendly now, is it?" he asked, looking up.

"NIGEL," I said between gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, Jordan, it's just such a shock to see you here at seven-thirty a.m. that I didn't know what to do."

"Nigel, please. This is serious. It's about the Burke High murders," I said.

Nigel immediately looked serious. "I'm sorry, Jordan. What is it, luv?"

"I need you to find these two people. I don't have any other information," I said, handing him a piece of paper with Darcie Williams and Shannon O'Brien's names on it. "They graduated from Burke the same year I did."

"Friends of yours, then?"

"Yeah."

Nigel studied the piece of paper. When he looked up his eyes were troubled. "You think they might be next?"

"I don't know, Nige. I don't know what's going on, but I want to try and find them and, I don't know, warn them or something," I said.

"I'll do what I can, but it may take awhile. You don't know if they married, then?"

I shook my head.

"Birthdays?"

I shook my head again. "Can't remember. But Shannon went to law school, she was a public defender."

His brow furrowed with thought as he looked at the paper. He looked up. "She'll be easy enough to track. I'll do whatever I can," he said. "I'll call you as soon as I find anything. Oh, and Jordan?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"Does Macey know about this?"

"I don't think you want to know the answer to that," I said.

"Gotcha. I'll pretend I never asked." He paused. "And what about dear Woodrow?"

"He doesn't know anything, either," I said. "If I find anything, I'll tell him."

Nigel looked at me doubtfully but he didn't say anything.

"Thanks, Nige, I really appreciate it," I said. "I owe you a drink, okay?"

"I'll take you up on that," he said.

I walked out of the lab and went to my office. I had just settled down with some paperwork and my coffee when Garrett knocked on the door.

"Yeah, c'mon in," I said.

"Jordan, I have a case I need you to do. Man got hit by a car at a crosswalk, driver left the scene, and there were no witness', at least none that stayed."

More than happy to abandon the pile of paperwork I stood up and grabbed my jacket. I took the report from Garrett. "Got it, boss."

"Thanks, Jordan," he said.

"No problem," I said, remembering to grab my coffee cup as I followed Garrett into the hall.

"How are you doing, Jordan? With your friends' deaths, I mean."

I shrugged. "Fine."

He narrowed his eyes. The man knew me too well.

"I am, Garrett, I'm fine. I just want this asshole caught, you know?"

"I do, Jordan, but you look like you haven't slept in a week."

I held up the cup of coffee just as the elevator arrived. "That's what coffee is for," I said as I got in the elevator.

Garrett just shook his head as the elevator doors slid shut between us.

X

Back at the morgue a few hours later, I was just finishing up the autopsy on our as yet unidentified homeless man that had been hit by the hit and run driver when Nigel came into the room.

"I found one of your friends," he said, waving a piece of paper under my nose.

"Great, Nige. Thanks. Who'd ya find?" I asked as I ripped off my rubber gloves and threw them away. I stripped off my scrubs and threw them into a hamper and went to the sink to wash my hands. Nigel followed me around, reading from his sheaf of papers.

"I found a Mrs. Shannon O'Brien Shoemaker of Wakefield, Massachusetts. Married a Byron Shoemaker four years ago, has a one and a half year old son. Used to be a lawyer, left the bar not long after she got married. Is this her?"

Nigel held out a really bad copy of a Massachusetts driver's licence. I peered at it. "Yeah, that's her," I said. "How'd you find her?"

"That's my little secret, luv," he said smugly. He handed me the papers. "There's her address and phone number."

I gave Nigel a quick hug. "Thanks, Nige."

"What are you going to do?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm just gonna pay her a visit. You know, catch up with an old friend."

Nigel sighed.

"What about Darcie?" I asked.

"I'm still tracking her down. Williams is a popular last name, you know, and I haven't found one Darcie. Are you sure that's her first name?"

"I thought it was, but maybe it was short for something or was just a nickname. I don't remember."

"Well, I'll keep looking."

"Thanks a bunch, Nige," I said again.

"You're welcome, Jordan," Nigel said and left the room, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

I finished out the autopsy, took the paperwork to Garrett's office, which was empty, and went back to my office. I picked up my phone and dialed the number Nigel had given me. It rang about twelve times, but there was no answer.

"Damn," I grumbled, slamming the phone down.

Just then my cell rang. I picked it up. "Cavanaugh."

"Jordan, how are you?"

"Oh, hey Andrew. I'm okay, how're you doing?" I said.

"Oh, I'm doing well, thanks. Hey, what are the chances that we could meet for lunch today, or are you autopsying?"

"No, I just finished, and I don't have anything pending. Lunch sounds great," I said.

"Really?" he asked, sounding excited. "Good! What are you in the mood for?"

"Hmm," I said. "A nice big hamburger sounds great."

"Have you ever been to Top?" he asked. "It's a great little brew pub that has killer burgers."

"I know where it is, but I've never been there," I replied. "That sounds great."

"Meet you in half an hour? That work for you?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then," I replied. I closed the phone and set it on my desk. I stared at the sea of paperwork crowding my desk and sighed. Every time I put it off, the more papers piled up. But I didn't care.

I took my jacket and went in search of Dr. Macy. He and Bug were in an autopsy.

"Hey, Garrett. I'm going to lunch, then I have some errands to do, is that okay? I'll be back later."

He gave me a speculative look. "Does this have anything to do with the Smith case?" he asked. "You're not going to the house are you?"

"No, I'm not going to the Smith house. And no, it doesn't have anything to do with the Smith case." Not directly anyways, I thought.

"Okay. See you later then."

"Right," I said and hurried out of the room. I barely had enough time to meet Andrew at Tap.

X

I walked into the noisy pub, looking for Andrew's blonde head, when I saw him waving from a booth next to the window.

I slid into the seat across from him. "Hi," I said.

"Hey, Jordan. It's good to see you," he said with a grin.

He really was good looking, I thought. He was wearing a pair of khaki's and a button down shirt, no tie. His long hair was loose and slightly damp. The combination of the long hair and the dress shirt gave him a sort of biker-businessman look.

I realized I was staring and quickly picked up a menu, holding it in front of my face to hide the flush that was creeping across my cheeks. When I returned to normal I set my menu down.

"So whatcha having?" he asked.

"I'm thinking the Bacon Ranch burger," I said.

"Good choice. I'm going for the Bleu Bacon burger," he said.

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't like eating mold," I said.

He laughed at that. The waitress came up for our drink order.

"I'll have your house ale," Andrew said.

"Root beer for me," I said.

The waitress smiled and went to get our drinks.

"Root beer, Jordan? I'm shocked," Andrew said.

"Well, I'm on the clock you know," I said. Then, thinking about that, I said, "What about you, don't you have to go back to the office?"

There was a slight pause. "Well," he said easily, "I was thinking of playing hooky the rest of the day. Catch a movie or something. Think I could talk you into joining me?"

"I can't, I have work to finish up," I said.

"That's too bad," he said.

"So you said you grew up in Rhode Island?" I asked a little while later as the waitress brought our burgers.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Did you live there your whole life? What brought you to Boston?"

"Yeah, I lived there my whole life. Just moved here a while back, because of my job," he said.

"You like it here?" I asked.

"I do. It's a great town. Are you a native?"

"Yeah, I grew up here. Spent some years moving around after college," I said. "I just came back here from L.A."

"I've never been to the west coast," he said. "What's it like?"

"It's a lot different from here. More laid back, more relaxed. I didn't like it."

"I wouldn't imagine you would," Andrew said. "You seem pretty....I don't know, like you're always on the go."

"Yeah, I'm a little high strung," I admitted.

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"I guess not. I just, I don't know....I have a hard time letting things go," I said before I realized what I was saying.

"Hmm. Like what?" Andrew asked curiously.

"I don't know, just stuff," I said. "It's nothing."

"Well, it had to mean something," Andrew said softly.

I shrugged. "I don't know, like at work. I can't leave a case unsolved. It drives me crazy. I just have to work at it and work at it until I figure it out."

Andrew looked at me intensely. "Like it consumes you?" he asked.

"Exactly," I agreed.

"I know what you mean," he said.

Suddenly the conversation was getting way to personal. I laughed, trying to lighten things up. "And what's so consuming about being an accountant?"

Andrew laughed. "I wasn't talking about my job."

My interest piqued. "What then?"

He shrugged. "Just life," he said lightly and abruptly changed the subject and told me about his sisters and many nieces and nephews.

When we finished eating I looked at my watch. Wakefield was at least a half hour drive, and that was if there was no traffic. I didn't want to be too late getting back, so I said, "I hate to eat and run, but I have an errand to do before I get back to work, so I should get going."

"No problem, I understand. But one of these days we're going to go to a movie," Andrew said.

I smiled as I pulled my wallet out of my purse. "Okay," I said as I dug through my wallet for some cash.

"Put your money away, Jordan," Andrew said. "I'm buying."

"I have money," I said. He'd paid every time we'd gone out and my feminist side was kicking in.

"I know. You can pay when we go to the movie," he said.

"Okay," I said.

"I'll walk you out," Andrew said. He put some money down and walked with me outside. It had clouded up again and looked like there would be more rain.

"Thanks for lunch, Andrew," I said.

"You're welcome," he replied.

We stood there awkwardly for another minute when he leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips.

It was over and he was saying goodbye and walking off before I recovered from my shock. I managed a feeble wave and headed to my car. I shoved all thoughts of kisses and Andrew out of my head. I had more important things to worry about than Andrew's kiss.

It was easier said than done, though, as I sat in slow moving traffic on my way to Wakefield. I turned the music up full blast, but even that didn't help.

It had been a quick, nice, respectful kiss. Maybe too quick to judge. But I knew I hadn't felt any of the same emotions that I had felt when Woody had kissed me out in the Mojave Desert.

Stop thinking about Woody, I thought. He's probably regretting he ever initiated that make out session. It was boredom, nothing more, I told myself ruthlessly. Look at how he's acted since then, like he can barely stand being around me.

Right. And the way _you've_ acted ever since that night has nothing to do with the way _he's_ been acting, right? said that little voice inside my head. The one that I tried to ignore as much as possible.

I turned the music up another notch and sang along very loudly to an old Cars song,

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	10. What's There To See

Hello! Here is Chapter 10, I hope you enjoy!

Big luv n hugs to: Agel15, traceyh, pol, Rinny J & kacie 20 for your encouragement and feedback. I appreciate ya!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan. If I did I'd actually have money.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When I finally pulled up in front of 236 Columbia Ave it was about two-thirty. The house was large, set back far off the street. I pulled into the circular drive and parked in front of the double doors. I walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. I hadn't really thought about what I was going to say, so I hoped that the words would come to me.

Silence greeted the end of the doorbell's chime. I waited a few minutes and rang it again. Nothing.

I started to get a distinctly uneasy feeling. I walked around the side of the house and peered into the garage window. There was a Mercedes parked inside. I walked around to the back. Nothing seemed amiss. I went back to the front door and rang the doorbell again, then knocked on the door.

Still nothing. I strained to listen for any sound from inside, and was startled when I heard the faint sound of a baby crying. My heartbeat sped up and the uneasy feeling grew.

"Shannon?" I called loudly. "Shannon, are you in there? It's Jordan Cavanaugh."

The baby continued to cry, but I could hear nothing else.

I thought briefly about calling the police, but instead I went back to my car and pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of my kit. I went back to the front door and gingerly turned the doorknob.

The door swung open easily. I stepped in. "Shannon?" I called. "Are you there?"

The sound of the baby crying was the only answer. I walked into the first room, the dining room. Nothing. I crept into the next room, the kitchen.

Lying face down in a puddle of blood was Shannon O'Brien Shoemaker.

I ran to her side and carefully picked up her wrist. There was no pulse. She was dead.

X

After finding Shannon's body I had called Woody, who then contacted Wakefield police. Since it was obviously another Burke Alum killing, Boston got jurisdiction over the case and Woody was there for the entire thing.

When he had arrived he had found me sitting on the porch staring at nothing. My hands were shaking. The Wakefield ME had determined that Shannon had been killed at about eight-thirty that morning, just an hour after her husband had left for work. He had been cleared, having arrived at work at his normal time.

Six hours. I had been just six hours late finding Shannon and warning her.

Of course the Wakefield police had been all over me about disturbing their crime scene. I had been too upset to talk to them, so it wasn't until Woody came and explained things that they stopped treating me as a suspect.

"Jordan," Woody said as he came back onto the porch. He sat down next to me. "What were you doing here alone? Why didn't you call me?"

"I don't know, Woody. I wasn't thinking, I guess. I thought I could come and talk to her and warn her and it would be fine," I replied, clasping my hands together tightly to stop them from shaking.

"How did you find her and how did you know that she was next?" he asked.

"I didn't know she was next," I snapped. "For all I knew_ I_ was next."

Woody ran a hand through his hair. "How did you find her?" he asked quietly.

I sighed. "I didn't. Nigel did."

"Of course," Woody murmured.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"Jordan, calm down. I didn't mean anything by it," Woody said soothingly, which only served to irritate me further.

"I was six hours late, Woody. Six hours sooner and I could've prevented this."

"Don't blame yourself, Jordan. You did the best you could. It is not your fault that some maniac is out there killing people."

I laughed harshly but didn't say anything. How he managed to always be so Godamned optimistic was beyond me.

"Is everything the same as with the other murders?" I asked.

"Seems so. Used a kitchen knife. The only difference is that he killed her in the kitchen."

"I wonder why," I said softly.

Woody shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he was in a hurry."

I sighed. "Are they taking her to Boston for the autopsy?" I asked.

"Yeah. They're not happy to give this case up, but they don't have a choice. It's obviously the same killer."

With another sigh I stood up. "I'm going back to the office," I said.

Woody grabbed my arm. "Jordan, I don't think you should stay alone at your apartment right now," he said.

I looked at him. "Why?"

"Because there's someone murdering your high school friends. I don't think it's just coincidence. I just don't think it's a good idea for you to be there alone."

"I'll be fine, Woody. C'mon, it's not like I'm just an innocent victim. I know what's going on. And I have a gun."

Woody shook his head. "I know, Jordan, but..."

"Don't worry," I interrupted him. "I'll be fine."

"Can't you stay at your Dad's for a while?"

"I don't want to stay at my Dad's," I said stubbornly. "I'm fine."

Woody took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. "Okay, Jordan. Just....be careful, okay?"

"I'm always careful," I said and stood up. Woody looked like he was going to say something, but he didn't and I walked back to my car, trying very hard not to think. But no matter how hard I tried not to, all I could think was....six hours....

X

When I arrived back at the office I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I got off the elevator and darted into my office, trying to avoid everyone. I managed to get to my office without running into anyone, and I closed the door behind me with a sigh of relief.

The Wakefield ME would be bringing Shannon's body in. I assumed that Woody had called Garrett and figured that he would show up sooner or later to talk to me.

With nothing to do until it was time to start the autopsy I sat at my desk and stared into space. I felt cold inside as I thought about Shannon and her husband and their little boy who would now grow up never knowing his mother. A year and a half. He'd never remember anything about her. All he'd have of her was photographs.

Angry tears burned my eyes and I ruthlessly fought them. I would not start crying, especially not here.

I focused my anger towards the killer. The bastard had to be caught. He was mocking us, leaving no clues, as if he was a ghost...

But he wasn't. He was just smart. But it didn't matter how smart he was. He would slip up eventually. They always did, and they usually got caught.

There was a rap on my door and I started. "Come in," I said.

The door opened and Nigel stood in the doorway, looking solemn.

"Woody called," he said. "I'm so sorry, luv."

I sighed. "Sit down, Nige," I said, motioning towards a chair.

He sat down. "He wanted to know who else you had me looking for."

"Yeah, I figured he would," I said.

"I gave him the name, but I still haven't had any luck finding her."

"Well, maybe they will," I said.

Nigel looked at me curiously. He was probably expecting me to get mad and throw a tantrum that he had told Woody. But at this point I was just so tired that I didn't care. Besides, I had fucked up. I hadn't found Shannon in time, it was my fault she was dead.

"They just brought her body in," Nigel said softly. "Garrett wants you, me and Bug to do it. He doesn't want to miss anything. Wolcott is coming in later to talk to us."

"To talk to you guys, you mean."

"Yeah," Nigel replied.

"I'll be there in a minute, Nige."

Nigel stood up and then looked down at me hesitantly. "Are you okay, luv? You don't look so good."

"I'm fine, Nigel. Just tired."

He looked unconvinced, but he nodded and said, "Okay, see you in a few then."

"Right," I said and watched him leave, shutting the door behind him.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, wishing that I could wake up and find out this was all a dream.

Shannon's death hit me especially hard because we had been so close. In fact, it was just over four years ago that I had seen her last. We had gone out to lunch to celebrate her engagement. I had run off to California with Tyler not long after that and had lost track of her. I had told myself more than a dozen times since I'd returned to Boston to find her and get together.

Now it was too late.

I opened my eyes and was horrified to realize that I was crying. I brushed the tears off of my cheek. I was not going to go into the autopsy crying or they'd make me leave.

I got myself back under control and walked down the hall to the autopsy room. When I walked into the room it was packed with people. Woody, Garrett, Nigel and Bug all stood around waiting for me.

I slipped on a pair of scrubs, put on a pair of gloves and joined them around the table. I forced myself to forget that I knew her.

"Are you okay to do this, Jordan?" Garrett asked.

I looked at him, hoping I didn't look like I'd been crying. "Of course, Garrett," I said firmly and we began the autopsy.

X

The autopsy didn't prove to tell us any more than we already knew. She'd been beaten; cause of death was repeated stabs to the chest. She had bled to death, the same as the other three women.

There was no forced entry, no unaccounted phone calls, nothing.

The media was in a frenzy over the serial killer and we had to get extra security to keep the reporters out of the office.

I was forced to stay in my office when DA Wolcott arrived for a briefing on the case from Nigel, Bug, Woody and Garrett. For once I wasn't even angry enough to be indignant at being left out.

I was holed up in my office searching every database I could think of to try to find Darcie Williams. I'd had no luck.

There was a knock on my door. I sighed. I didn't want to see anyone, but there was not much I could do about it.

"Yeah, come in," I said.

The door opened and a short, balding man walked in.

"Dr. Stiles," I said in surprise. Dr. Stiles was the office shrink, the psychologist that did our annual evaluations. It wasn't time for evaluations, though, but I figured I knew what he was doing here.

"Dr Macey send you?" I asked.

"Jordan," he said. "It's good to see you, too."

I sighed. "What are you doing here?" I said as politely as I could.

"Well, I was made aware of your situation and thought that maybe you would like to talk about it," he said in his nasally voice. He didn't wait for an invitation, just made himself comfortable in the chair across from me.

"Nah," I said. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"I think maybe you should," he said.

I sighed again. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Nothing to talk about? Four of your friends have been murdered and you don't think that there's anything to talk about?"

"Well, there's nothing to be done about it. They're dead, no amount of talking is going to change that," I said angrily.

He nodded sagely. "That is true, Jordan, but that doesn't mean that you don't need to talk about your feelings."

"C'mon doc," I said jokingly. "You know me better than that."

"I do know you, Jordan, that's why I think you could use someone to talk to."

I stared at him. He was obviously not going to take a polite refusal.

"No I don't, thanks though," I said.

He sighed. "We both know that I can't make you talk to me," he said. "But I think we both know that you usually feel better after we talk."

There was a long silence. Then I looked down at the pictures of my dead friends and suddenly I started talking. It was like a dam burst.

Dr. Stiles listened, making notes in his notebook and making comments here and there. We talked about different things, and when I finally wound down I felt relieved, as if a huge weight had been lifted.

"Well, Jordan, it seems like you really did want to talk," he said.

"Yeah," I said wryly.

"It seems like you are taking all of this as well as can be expected. But I want you to call me if you need to talk more, okay? Don't always think you have to deal with everything on your own. It's okay to rely on people. It's okay to trust."

I didn't say anything to that, but I had little reason to trust people.

"You have a lot of friends here, Jordan. They care about you. You should let them," he said as he got up.

I shook his hand. "Thanks doc," I said.

"Anytime, Jordan. I mean that."

And with that he was gone, leaving me feeling a little better than I had been. In fact, when Lily popped her head in a few minutes later I didn't attempt to rip it off.

"Hey, Jordan," she said hesitantly.

"Hi Lily," I said. "Come in."

She came in and sat down. "How are you doing?" she asked.

"The million dollar question," I said lightly.

Lily didn't say anything to that, just looked at me with that serious look of hers.

"I'm doing okay," I said.

"I was wondering if I could take you out to get something to eat?" she asked.

"Nah, I'm okay, thanks. I don't think I could really eat right now."

"Okay. Jordan..."

"Yeah?" I said, looking up from the papers I was sorting through.

"I, uh, I don't think you should be alone right now, not until this killer is caught," she said.

"Oh, not you, too. What, are you and Woody conspiring against me?" I asked.

"No, I haven't talked to him. I just don't think you should be alone."

"I'll be fine, Lily," I said. "I know how to protect myself."

She took a deep breath. "No matter what I say you won't change your mind will you?"

"No. What if he never gets caught, am I going to move in with you?"

Lily sighed. "Okay. But my offer is open, if you need anything, call me. You have my cell number."

"I do. And thanks, Lil."

Lily nodded and, still looking worried, got up and walked down the hall.

I got up and shut the door, hoping that would give everyone the clue that I wanted to be alone.

It didn't. Just after Lily left there was another knock.

I sighed, starting to get annoyed. "Yeah, come in."

The door opened and Garrett walked in, looking serious and solemn, as usual.

"How'd things go with Wolcott?" I asked.

"About how you'd expect," he said. "She laid into Woody because they haven't got a suspect yet. Then she laid into me for my incompetent ME's that haven't found anything new."

"She's a peach," I said with a half smile. "So what'd she say when she found out I found the body?"

Garrett looked at me evenly. "I think you can probably guess."

I winced. "Did you get in trouble?" I asked.

"Let's just say she wasn't happy that I kept you on this case despite her...wishes."

"Sorry, man," I said. "I wasn't thinking. I should have called Woody."

"Yes, you should have."

There was a pause.

"How are you doing with all of this?" Garrett asked.

"I'm fine," I said irritably. "Why does everyone keep hounding me about it?"

"Because we care about you, Jordan," Garrett said gruffly in a rare show of emotion. "We're all worried."

"I don't suppose you'd know anything about Dr Stiles little visit?" I said.

Garrett just looked at me.

"Okay then. It was..." I paused. "It was good to talk to him," I choked out. That was as close to saying thank you that I was going to get.

"Good," Garrett said. "Now, why don't you get out of here?"

I sighed. "Yeah, I think I will. I'm beat."

"See you tomorrow, Jordan," Garrett said as he left.

"See ya," I replied. I looked at the mountain of paperwork on my desk, decided that there was no way in hell I was going to get anymore work done and stood up.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," I said with a resigned sigh.

Woody walked in and my heart jumped. "Hey Woody," I said.

"Jordan. How are you doing?"

God, how many times was I going to have to answer that question? "I'm fine." Standard answer.

He gave me a probing look, his blue eyes serious, concerned.

"I am, I'm fine. I just want to catch this bastard and make him pay for what he's done."

Woody didn't say anything, just watched me. Then he took a deep breath. "Okay, Jordan. But after talking with Garrett I decided to put a uniform outside your apartment building."

"Why?" I asked irritably, scowling.

"Because four of your friends have been murdered, Jordan," he said. "I don't want to take any chances. If there's anything suspicious someone will be there."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. You're going to do this whether I like it or not, aren't you?"

"Well, since you won't stay with your Dad for a while, and you won't stay with Lily for awhile, then yes, this is the only option I have."

"Did my Dad put you up to this?" I asked suspiciously.

"No, Jordan, he didn't. Is it that hard for you to think that people could be worried about you?" He paused. "That _I_ could be worried about you?" he added.

My heart stalled for a minute. I was confused, my overwrought emotions swirling around and giving me a headache.

"Fine," I said with a sigh. "Have someone watch my apartment."

Woody looked at me, and for a second I saw a flash of pain in his eyes. Then he sighed. "I can tell you don't want me around, so I'll leave."

We stared at each other. I knew he wanted something from me, but at that moment I didn't have anything left to give. I looked away.

"See ya later, Jordan," he said. "Be careful."

"Bye Woody," I said and when I looked back he was gone.

((Thanks for reading and don't forget to review and tell me what you think!!! Thanks!!!))


	11. Lets Go Crazy By & By

Big thanks out to my reviewers: Agel15, Kacie20, Sweet-Rush37, CryptedOut04 & whalersfan. Thanks so much for your reviews and praise! It means so much to me!

I hope you enjoy this next chapter and sorry it's kinda short, but it kinda had to split there.

Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan, unfortunately!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I managed to escape without having to hear one more person ask me how I was doing. I went straight to my apartment, taking note of the extremely conspicuous dark blue sedan parked across the street. I'd never understood why they thought they were being 'undercover' when the cars screamed 'undercover cop.' Maybe if they were in a beat up Pinto...

I entered my apartment and collapsed on the couch. I took all of the paperwork from the four cases and spread them out on my coffee table, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I'll find something new.

I don't. I go over every detail and make a list. There wasn't much.

We knew the killer is right handed. _That_ narrowed things down, I thought. We knew that the knife used in each murder was from the victim's kitchen. Again, not very helpful. They were all murdered at different times; none of them had unaccounted phone calls or visitors. We had exactly one unidentified fingerprint which could have possibly been from the killer, but since it wasn't in any databases, it didn't help until someone was arrested.

Anger boiled inside of me. Anger and frustration. There had to be something, something that I just wasn't seeing. But no matter how many times I read and re-read, I still came up with nothing.

X

The loud ringing of my cell phone woke me up from a sound sleep. I sat up and rummaged, bleary eyed, through the papers on the coffee table. I found the phone and flipped it open.

"Yeah, Cavanaugh," I said groggily. My neck hurt from sleeping on the couch.

"Hi Jordan, did I catch you at a bad time?"

"Oh, Andrew, hey," I said, trying to wake up. I looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was after eleven. I'd been asleep for about two hours. "No, no. You're fine."

"I just saw you on the news," he said.

"What?" I said, my heart skipping.

"Yes, there was a story about another killing from that Burke High Killer, some woman in Wakefield. They showed you outside the house with the police."

Jesus, I thought. I hadn't even noticed anyone filming. I thought the cops had kept everyone away.

"They said you knew the victim, that you went to make sure she was okay and you found her dead."

"Damn," I said.

"Is it true? That you've known all of the victims, that you're the lead ME on the case?"

"They said that?" I asked. Oh wonderful, I thought. Wolcott was sure to get her panties in a bunch over _that_ being blasted on the news.

"Yes, they did. Is it true?" he asked. He sounded worried.

I sighed. "I'm not the lead ME, I'm assisting in the case," I said.

"And you've known all of the victims?" he asked.

"Yeah, I knew them in high school."

"Jesus, Jordan. Why didn't you tell me about this? I feel terrible, I've been asking you out like nothing was wrong..."

"It's okay, Andrew," I said as I got up and went to the fridge. I peered inside and saw nothing that looked appetizing. I'd been meaning to go shopping for a few days. "It's been good to get away from things for awhile."

He sighed. "Still, I'm so sorry, Jordan."

"Thanks," I said, waiting for the inevitable 'are you okay?'

I wasn't disappointed.

"Are you doing okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said. "I'm just really hungry and have no food in my house. Want to come over for some late night pizza?" I asked impulsively.

"Sure, sounds good," he replied.

"What kind?" I asked.

"Oh, anything. Pepperoni is always good."

"Pepperoni. Okay, I'll get it ordered," I said. I gave him my apartment number and we hung up and I ordered the pizza.

X

The pizza arrived before Andrew did. I paid the delivery guy and he left. A minute later Andrew arrived and I buzzed him up. A minute later my cell phone rang.

"Jordan, what are you doing?"

"Uh, Woody? What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Officer Lewis just called to say you just buzzed a guy up to your apartment. Who is it?"

"Woody, it's just a friend," I said irritably, glancing at the door. Andrew would be up any second and I didn't want to be arguing with Woody about him when he showed up.

"With everything that's going on I don't think it's a good idea," he said. "How long have you known this guy?"

I couldn't tell whether Woody was just jealous or if he was really concerned, but I thought it was more likely that he was just jealous. "Jesus, Woody. His name's Andrew Lloyd, he's an accountant. He's fine," I insisted. "Now, I have to go."

"Fine," he snapped and the line disconnected.

I sighed and fought the temptation to throw my phone across the room.

The doorbell rang then and I merely set the phone on the counter and opened the door.

"Hi, Jordan," Andrew said as I opened the door. He was holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. He handed me the flowers, and I looked down at them in amazement, trying to remember the last time a guy had brought me flowers.

I couldn't.

"Hey," I said with a smile. "Thanks."

"No problem," Andrew said and he leaned down and kissed my cheek as he walked in.

I ignored the kiss and went to get glasses for the wine. I put on some music and we sat on the couch eating pizza and drinking wine. After two glasses I stopped, not wanting to be hung over the next morning.

"No more?" Andrew said as he poured himself another glass.

I shook my head. "Thanks, but no. Gotta work tomorrow," I said. "Don't you? I thought you had to be to work really early."

"Not tomorrow. I'm visiting clients but not until the afternoon."

"I see," I said. "So what is it you do exactly?"

"I'm an accountant. I do taxes, audits. All that fun stuff," he said with a grin.

"Oh. Right on," I said with a smirk. "Sounds like _lots_ of fun."

Andrew laughed.

We sat and ate and talked until I started yawning.

"You look tired," Andrew said, leaning towards me and running his fingers up my arm. "I guess I should get going," he said softly.

He was looking at me expectantly and suddenly I was extremely uncomfortable. I thought suddenly that he was probably expecting something more than just pizza when I asked him over.

Oh shit, I thought. I pasted on a smile and said, "Yeah, ya know, I have work tomorrow."

He stared at me and for just a second I saw an unreadable emotion flicker in his blue eyes. Disappointment? Anger? I wondered. He smiled easily, though. "Okay, I'll get going then." He stood up and I followed him to the door.

"Thanks for the pizza," he said politely and I thought his voice sounded just a bit cooler than it had been when he first arrived.

"Sure. Thanks for the flowers," I said. We stood there awkwardly for a minute, and then he gave me a hug. I stood stiffly in his arms, feeling a sudden unreasonable feeling of discomfort. I chalked it up to my aversion to anything emotional.

I shut the door behind him and heaved a sigh of relief. I wrote off my weird feelings to the fact that I was extremely tired. It had been a long day.

Five minutes after Andrew left my phone rang again. I picked it up.

"Cavanaugh."

"Jordan it's me."

"Hi Woody," I said as I collapsed onto my bed.

"I was just...."

"Checking in on me?" I asked.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said with a sigh.

"I'm fine Woody. I'm just tired. I'm going to get to bed."

"Okay," he said and there was an awkward pause. "Good night."

"Yeah, good night," I replied. I flipped the phone shut and barely had the energy to turn the lamp off before I fell asleep.

X

I slept in the next morning, until after ten o'clock. I slept straight through my alarm and didn't wake up until my cell phone rang.

"Cavanaugh," I said groggily.

"Jordan. Are you okay?"

I looked at the clock and leapt out of bed. "Garret, shit, I'm sorry, I slept in!" I said as I rifled through my closet trying to find something to wear.

"It's okay, Jordan. But no one had seen you and Woody was worried. He was on a call and couldn't go by your apartment."

"I'm surprised he didn't just have his little friend outside my building come up."

Garrett made a strangled noise almost like a laugh. "Jordan, he's not trying to make your life difficult. We're just concerned about you.

I sighed. "I know, man. I'm just...edgy."

"Really," Garrett said. "And when aren't you?"

I ignored that. "I'll be in as soon as I can," I said.

"Why don't you just take the day off Jordan? You've had a lot going on, why don't you just take a break?"

"No, I have stuff to do," I protested.

"It's up to you, Jordan, but it's okay if you don't want to come in. By the way, I saw you on the news last night."

I groaned. "Wonderful. Heard from Wolcott yet?" I asked.

"Not yet. I'm sure I will soon."

"I'm sorry, Garrett. I didn't know they were filming, and I haven't talked to anyone, I don't know where they got their info," I said.

"No problem Jordan," he said. "I know you wouldn't talk to the media. I'm sure they just found out. I'll take care of Renee."

"Thanks Garrett," I said and we hung up.

I threw on a pair of cords and a sweater and headed to work. Halfway there my phone rang.

"Cavanaugh," I said, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder so I could shift.

"Jordan, luv, I have something for you."

"Nige! Did you find Darcie?" I asked.

"Indeed I did, luv. Miss Anna Darcella Williams."

"Oh, man, Nige, you're a genius. I'm almost there, I'll see ya in a few."

"Righto luv," he replied and hung up.

It looked like I was going to be taking Garrett up on that offer of some time off. I didn't know where Darcie was but there was no way in hell I was taking any chances. As soon as I had that address I was going to find her. I would not let what happened with Shannon happen with Darcie.

((thanks for reading and please please review!!))


	12. No Place To Hide

Happy Halloween!

Hello everyone and thanks for stopping by for Chapter 12. Things are falling into place nicely and chapter 13 should be up soon. Once again, the Muses have been kind to me, keeping me inspired! :)

Big thanks to Agel15, NCCJFAN, pol, Sweet-rush37, Kacie20 & sugar 31107 for your reviews! It means a lot to me that you take the time to tell me what you think!!! I can't believe how many reviews I've had! WOW!

To sugar31107-Chapter 11 disappeared for a while, don't know why!

Disclaimer: I don't own Jordan or Woody or Crossing Jordan, darn it.

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When the elevator doors opened I ran straight to the lab. "Nige!" I said.

"Hello Jordan," he said, looking up from his computer screen. He handed me a paper, which included a drivers license picture and an address and phone number. "Is that her?"

"Yeah, it is. Nigel, you are a genius, I don't care what everyone says about ya," I said as I studied the paper.

"Thanks, luv," he said with a little smirk. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Thanks, Nige. I'm going to go to her house now. I'll be back later."

"Wait, Jordan. Her work address is on there, too. She's probably there now."

I glanced down at the paper. "Nordstrom? Right on, Nigel. I'll try there first. Thanks again."

"You're welcome," he said. Then he looked at me seriously. "Be safe, Jordan, and good luck."

I smiled. "Will do," I said as I tucked the paper into my pocket and went to Garret's office.

"Hey, boss," I said as I stuck my head through the door. "I have to run for a while. I'll be back later."

"What are you doing, Jordan?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nothin. Just have something I need to do," I said and backed out of his office before he could ask any more questions. "Later," I said as I hurried back to the elevator, pretending I couldn't hear him calling me.

Lily was just getting off the elevator as I rushed into it. She was carrying her lunch and tried to stop me. I hit the door close button.

"Can't, Lil. I'll be back later. I'm in a hurry," I said as the doors slid shut, cutting off her protests.

My heart was pounding with anticipation as I drove to Nordstrom. I knew full well that I could just as easily have called the store or, probably better still, called Woody, but I didn't. I had been too late for Shannon, I wanted to make sure I did everything I could for Darcie.

I went straight to the information desk when I got to the department store. I asked if Darcie was working and the customer service girl looked her up on the schedule. "Yes, she should be in women's shoes," the girl told me.

"Do you know if she's here or not?" I asked.

The girl shook her head. "No, you'll have to check with that department. Upstairs and to the left."

"Okay, thanks," I said as I rushed off to find the shoe department.

I took the escalator, my heart pounding. When it reached the second floor I hurried off and went to the left and immediately found the shoe department. I walked to the register where I could see a dark haired girl with her back to me. She was on the phone. I waited somewhat patiently until she hung up the phone and turned around.

"Darcie!" I said with a sigh of relief.

"Oh my God! Jordan Cavanaugh, is that you?" she squealed.

"Yeah!" I said, feeling my heartbeat go back to normal.

Darcie and I had been very close, though we weren't as good as friends as I had been with Shannon. Darcie was the wild one of our group, the first one to try a new drink or, more likely, a new drug. She had talked me into getting a tattoo with her when we were in ninth grade. Matching butterflies on our hips.

Memories flooded over me. I thanked whatever God was listening that Nigel had found Darcie before the killer had.

"What are you doing here? I haven't seen for what, five years or more?" she said, grinning. She still had her dark brown hair cut short, framing her face in an A-line cut. She looked the same as I remembered, with her broad smile and dimples.

"It's kind of a long story. I work at the Medical Examiners office," I said. "I need to talk to you, it's pretty urgent. Can you take a break or something?"

Darcie looked bewildered but saw the seriousness in my eyes and simply nodded. "Sure, let me go tell my supervisor. I'll be right back."

She went through a doorway where I could see stacks of shoes. I leaned against the counter, wondering exactly what I was going to tell her.

And then suddenly a hand clapped me firmly on the shoulder and I jumped and whirled around.

"Jesus, Woody. You scared the shit out of me," I said as I saw Woody standing behind me, looking murderous.

"Jordan! What are you doing here? How did you find her? No, wait. Let me guess. Nigel?" Woody asked, his voice hard.

I sighed. "Yes, Nigel."

"Why the hell didn't you call me? We just went to her house and no one was there, so her neighbors told us where she worked."

I shrugged. "I didn't think about it," I lied.

"That's your problem Jordan. You _don't_ think! If she hadn't been here would you have called me before you went to her house?"

I looked down guiltily. "Um..."

"That's what I thought. God damnit Jordan, what if you went there and the killer was there? When are you going to start thinking?"

I stood there, feeling properly chastised and starting to get angry. "Okay, Woody. I get it."

"No, you don't. That's the problem."

"Um, Jordan, is everything okay?"

I turned around to see Darcie standing there with her purse, looking alarmed.

"Yeah, it's fine. This is Detective Hoyt with the Boston PD," I said.

"You can call me Woody," he said, giving her his charming grin. "I'm sorry to bother you at work, but we need to talk to you."

I breathed a sigh of relief at the 'we'. He couldn't be too mad if he was going to let me stay.

"That's okay. Jordan said that it was important."

"It is," I said. "Is there somewhere we can talk here?"

"We can go to the café," she said. "It's probably pretty empty by now."

"That's fine," Woody said, giving me a warning look, obviously telling me to let him do his job.

We went to the café and got coffee and sat in a booth in a corner.

"Have you heard anything about the Burke Alum murders?" Woody asked.

Darcie looked troubled. "I just heard about them yesterday. I work two jobs and I never hear the news. My Mom heard about it in Florida and called me last night." She looked at me and I could see tears glistening in her eyes. "It's everyone from the gang but you and me," she said.

"I know," I said. "And I'm thinking that you and I are next."

Woody glared at me. "We don't know anything," he said when Darcie looked horrified. "I have some questions. Have you noticed anything unusual, had any strange things happen?"

Darcie stared into space for a minute, biting her bottom lip. "Well," she said finally. "There was the guy from the reunion committee. He kind of gave me the creeps."

Woody whipped out his notebook. "Reunion committee? Jordan, have you heard about this?"

I shook my head. "No. Our reunion is next year," I said. "It seems kinda early. What did he want?"

"Well, I thought it was weird too. He wanted a picture, said he was putting together a display of some before and after pictures. He said he was writing up an article for the reunion, something for the pamphlet they were going to have there."

Woody was busy scribbling in his notebook. "That should be easy enough to verify through the school's Alumni Association," he said. "They're in charge of reunions, I think."

"What was his name?" I asked.

"Umm. John something. John Newman, I think. I didn't remember him from school. He said he transferred in before senior year or something," Darcie said. "He said he was on the newspaper staff. I was gonna look him up in my yearbook but I couldn't find them and then I forgot about it."

"When was this?" Woody asked.

"Umm. Last week. Thursday maybe?"

"Did he come here?"

She shook her head. "No, at my apartment."

Woody looked startled. "Your apartment? Huh."

My scalp prickled when I thought about that. He had found her, had known where she was a week before we did. Did he know where I lived, too? I had no doubt that this guy was who we were looking for. There wasn't a chance that the reunion committee would send a guy to a woman's apartment to take a picture.

"What did he look like?" Woody asked.

"Um. He was pretty tall, kind of heavy. He had dark hair, brown. His eyes were brown, too. He had a goatee."

"If I take you to the precinct could you talk to a sketch artist?" Woody asked.

Darcie nodded. Her eyes were fearful, but she was determined. "Of course."

"Great," Woody said. "Why don't we go to the precinct, you can talk to the sketch artist while I see what I can find about this guy."

Darcie's face was pale. "O-okay," she said shakily.

"Jordan, why don't you meet us there?" Woody asked. "We'll go talk to Miss Williams' manager so she doesn't get into trouble."

I nodded. "Okay," I said and they went to find the manager and I went to my car. I felt at once elated that I had been in time, that Darcie was safe, and I felt cold at the thought that the man who could be the Burke Alum Killer had been in her apartment. He'd been in her apartment, I thought. Maybe there were fingerprints.

When I reached the precinct I went inside and was greeted cheerfully by several officers that I had worked with on various cases. I went straight to Woody's office and sat down and was joined by Woody a few minutes later.

His eyes were troubled as he sat at his desk. He ran his hand through his hair, something that he always did when he was anxious. "She's talking to Dave now," he said, referring to Dave Richards, the sketch artist.

"Are you checking her apartment for fingerprints?" I asked. "If he was there taking pictures he had to have touched something."

Woody shook his head and sighed. "Miss Williams said that he was wearing leather gloves. He didn't ever take them off."

My scalp prickled again. "He wasn't with any Alumni Association," I stated.

"I'm sure he wasn't," Woody agreed. "I have a guy working on that, but I have a feeling that this guy is our killer. We have to re-interview the families of the other victims, see if any of them knew anything about a guy from the Reunion Committee." He sighed heavily. "I'm sure that John Newman isn't his name. We have nothing on this guy except for Miss Williams' description and she wasn't even very clear about that. He made her nervous and she said she didn't pay that much attention to what he looked like, so I don't know how accurate she will be."

"Oh man," I said.

"We're going to have someone trail her," Woody said. "I'd like to put her in protective custody, but we don't even have a suspect so there's no way we could do that. She said she may take some time off of work and go to Florida to visit her parents. I told her that would be a good idea."

I nodded. "Yeah."

There was silence for a minute while Woody watched me carefully. "Jordan, I think you should reconsider staying with your Dad for a while."

"I can't do that, Woody. We don't have a suspect, I can't just stay there indefinitely. What if we never find the guy?"

"We'll find him, Jordan. We're getting closer. But I think you should stay with someone, Lily said you could stay with her."

I shook my head firmly. "I won't put her in danger," I said. "I can take care of myself. You have a cop outside my apartment, I'll be fine."

Woody sighed again and looked irritated. "You're impossible, Jo."

"Yeah, I know," I said and gave him a little half smile.

"I'm going to go check on the info I gave Frank. I'll be in touch when I know anything, okay?" Woody said as he stood up.

"Okay," I replied. I looked at him. "Uh, and thanks, Woody," I said awkwardly.

"For what?"

I shrugged. "For watching out for me," I said and then I escaped before I said anything else.

((please please review! A pumpkin shaped cookie if ya do! :)


	13. No One Can Be Trusted

Passes out the pumpkin shaped cookies to traceyh, Sweet-rush37, Agel15, whalersfan and Sammy for their reviews. Thank you thank you thank you! I appreciate your reviews and support so much!!!

Thanks for stopping by and I hope you enjoy Chapter 13.

Disclaimer: I still do not own Crossing Jordan. But maybe if I win the lottery I can buy it. LOL

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Back at the office I went straight to find Nigel. He was in the break room fixing himself a cup of coffee.

"Jordan!" he exclaimed when he saw me. "Did you find her?"

"Yeah, I did. Thanks Nigel," I said.

"What happened?" he asked.

I told him. When I was finished he was shaking his head. "If you hadn't thought to find her..."

"And if you hadn't found her when you did who knows what would have happened," I said.

"So now what?" he asked.

I shrugged. "After they get a sketch I guess they'll start running it through the databases, see if they can get anything."

"Well, if you need anything else..." he said.

"Thanks Nige. I owe ya big," I said. "I'll have to buy you a drink."

"Or two," Nigel said with a broad grin.

"Yeah, or two," I said with a laugh.

I left Nigel in the break room and headed back to my office. I stopped to tell Garrett and Bug, who were in the middle of an autopsy. They were glad I had found her, and I could see concern in their eyes when they looked at me. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate their concern, but when would they realize I could take care of myself?

I went back to my office and started sifting through paperwork. I couldn't really do much more until I heard from Woody, so I attempted to finish out some reports and resigned myself to staying in my office until something came up.

X

Hours later I was still in my office, munching on potato chips, when there was a rap at my door. I looked up and saw Woody.

"Hey, Woody, come in," I said.

He came in and sat in a chair across from me, reaching over to eat a chip out of the bag on my desk. "I'm starved," he commented.

"Help yourself," I said, motioning to the chips.

"Thanks," he said and took a handful.

Through a mouthful of chips he told me what they had learned.

There was no John Newman that had gone to Burke High. There was no reunion committee working on the reunion for my class. No one from the school had sent anyone to take pictures of alum's from my class.

"That doesn't surprise me," I said.

"No, me either," Woody said. He pulled a piece of paper from a folder he was carrying and handed it to me.

It was the sketch of 'John Newman'. I studied it and then looked up at Woody, disappointed. "This could be anyone," I said, shaking my head.

"Yeah, I know," he said wryly. "Unfortunately Miss Williams didn't pay much attention to his face. She described his clothes in great detail, but she was not very clear on his face.

The picture showed a guy that could have easily been in his early twenties or early forties. He had short tidy hair, brown she had said. Brown eyes, wire rimmed glasses and a goatee. Average looking, the kind of guy you pass on the street and don't even give a second glance to.

"She said he was tall, probably six feet, and kind of heavy around his stomach."

"Great. Like that couldn't describe any one of a million men in Boston. How about his age?"

Woody shrugged. "Maybe in his late thirties."

I sighed. "Well, it's something, anyway."

"Nathan Shoemaker said that his wife mentioned her high school reunion the day before he left town. He said he didn't know what brought it up and she didn't say anything else about it."

"So he might have gone to see her, too," I mused.

"Possibly. We talked to the neighbors, no one saw this man."

"Which doesn't mean that he wasn't there," I pointed out.

"Nope," Woody replied.

"Well, let me know if you find anything else," I said.

"Yeah, I will. I need to ask you, though; do you have any other high school friends that could be a target?"

I shook my head. "Not that I can think of. Those five were the ones I hung out with. Anyone else would just be an acquaintance, which could be half of the school."

Woody sighed. "Well, if you think of anything else, like anyone who might have a grudge against you, let me know."

"I will, but I've thought about it and I can't think of anything."

"Alright," he said. There was a pause and then he looked at me. "Hey, you want to go get a drink?"

I looked at the clock on my wall. It was later than I had thought. I looked at Woody, who was watching me carefully. Suddenly getting out of the office sounded great, and spending some time with Woody sounded even better.

"Sure, sounds good," I said and Woody grinned.

"Great!" he said. "To the Pogue?"

"Yeah, my Dad'll want to see you," I said.

"Oh, why's that?" Woody asked, looking surprised.

"He thinks you're nice for some reason," I said. "I keep telling him that he just doesn't know you."

Woody laughed "Gee, thanks Jordan."

"Anytime, Wood," I said with a grin, enjoying the lack of tension.

I picked up my jacket and followed Woody to the elevator. We passed Nigel, who raised an eyebrow at me, but said nothing.

We got to the Pogue and went inside. The warmth of the bar was a welcome relief from the crisp night air.

Dad was at the bar when we walked in. His face broke into a grin when he saw Woody.

"Detective Hoyt," Dad said as we settled down at the bar.

"Mr. Cavanaugh," Woody said with a smile, shaking my dad's hand.

"What can I get ya?" Dad asked.

"I'll have a Bud," Woody said. Dad poured his drink and handed it to him then handed me a Guinness.

"Thanks, Dad," I said.

"Sure thing, Jordan," he said. "How are things going with that Burke High case?"

Woody took a drink. "We're making a little headway," he said and filled my dad in on the case.

"Jordan, I really think you should stay with me for a while," Dad said when Woody was finished.

"I'm fine, Dad," I said. "There's a cop babysitting me outside my apartment."

"Still, I'd feel better if you'd stay with me."

"I'm fine," I said firmly, closing the subject.

Dad shook his head and turned to help a couple that had just walked up.

Woody opened his mouth and I shook my head vehemently. "I don't want to hear it," I said.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay."

There was an awkward silence and we drank our drinks, each lost in our own thoughts.

X

The next week went by peacefully enough. I got used to the cop outside my apartment and nothing more happened. Woody was busy with multiple cases and I didn't hear much from him. There were no new leads on the killer and I started wondering if we had heard the last from the Burke High Killer.

Woody and I met for drinks a couple of times after work, easing back into our familiar comfortableness. We didn't talk about us or relationships or expectations and things floated along like they always had.

Andrew continued to call me but I was swamped at work and it seemed I never had time to get together with him. I wasn't sure how I felt about him. He was always polite on the phone when I turned him down, but I kept getting the feeling that he was waiting for something and I had no idea what.

The weekend rolled around and Andrew called to ask me out for a drink Saturday night. I didn't have any plans so I agreed, and Andrew suggested he pick me up and go to the Pogue.

"Jordan, it's so good to see you," he said when I met him at the street. He gave me a quick hug and we climbed onto his motorcycle and he drove us to the Pogue.

"Haven't seen you for awhile," Andrew said as we slid into a booth.

"Yeah," I said. "I've just been swamped at work."

"I understand that," he said. His long hair was loose, falling to his shoulders, and I thought once again that he was really an attractive guy.

"So how have you been, Jordan?" he asked.

"Good, thanks. And you?"

"Oh, I'm fine. How have you been handling your friend's deaths?" he asked, his blue eyes solemn, worried.

I sighed. "I've been okay." I said. I had attended the funerals for three of my friends. They had been horrible experiences. Darcie had been at them, too. The only one we hadn't gone to was Andrea's, because her parents had had her buried in Montana where they lived now.

But I didn't want to talk about that, didn't want to talk about Shannon's husband, holding their baby boy and sobbing, I didn't want to think about sixteen year-old Eliza Smith, crying on her dad's shoulder. I didn't want to think of Shannon's mother staring blankly at her only daughter's casket.

"Well, if you ever need to talk, I'm here," Andrew said with a supportive smile.

"Thanks, Andrew," I said.

We sat and drank in comfortable silence. We played pool and I lost again. We had just sat back down to finish our drinks when I heard my name.

I looked up and saw Woody standing next to the table where Andrew and I were sitting. My heart fell into my stomach when I saw the look on his face. He was suspicious and angry, but underlying all of that, I could see that he was hurt.

"Woody!" I said, giving him what I knew had to be a deer in the headlights look.

"Hey Jordan," he said casually with a tight smile. "How are ya?"

"Fine," I said, wondering just what game he was playing. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know. I'm doin' just great," he said. "Who's your friend?"

I scowled at him. "This is Andrew Lloyd, Andrew, this is Detective Hoyt with the Boston PD. He and I work on a lot of cases together."

It was Woody's turn to scowl at me.

Andrew didn't seem to notice anything and shook Woody's hand. "Hey, nice to meet you," he said with a smile.

Woody looked at him and froze. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Nice to meet you too. Andrew, was it?"

"Yes, Andrew Lloyd."

"Oh yeah," Woody said, sounding like he'd just remembered something. "You're the accountant Jordan was telling me about, right?"

Andrew looked pleased. "That's right."

"Huh. Well, I have to get going. Got bad guys to catch you know," Woody said with a definitely fake sounding laugh.

"Cool," Andrew said. "See ya around."

"Yeah, see ya," Woody said and without a second glance at me he turned and walked out of the Pogue.

My heart was racing but I forced myself to act calm as Andrew turned to me.

"He seems like a nice guy," Andrew said.

"Yeah. He can be," I said.

"You know, Jordan," Andrew said after a little pause. "You've never been to my place."

I sensed dangerous territory and just smiled. "No, I haven't, have I?"

"What do you say we swing by there for a cup of coffee before I take you home?"

I didn't say anything. I wasn't sure that I believed him when he said he wanted to just have a cup of coffee.

Andrew must have sensed my hesitation and he smiled. "I promise, just a cup of coffee, you can see my apartment and I'll take you home."

He was looking at me earnestly and I could see no reason to say no, so I smiled. "Okay, that sounds good."

I'd had a few beers and I was feeling nice and buzzed. I wasn't drunk, just buzzed. I followed Andrew to his motorcycle and climbed on behind him. I had kind of a hard time holding on and ended up hanging onto Andrew for dear life as he steered us to his apartment.

His apartment was in an older part of town in one of the new apartment buildings built in the middle of a historic district. He parked out front and helped me off.

He took my hand and led me into the building and we took the elevator to the eighth floor.

Once inside Andrew took my jacket and showed me to the living room where he told me to take a seat on the couch while he fixed coffee. He disappeared into the kitchen and I looked around the apartment.

It was pretty bare, just the necessary furniture and a few knick-knacks. His coffee table was covered with Sports Illustrated magazines.

Andrew came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with two cups of coffee and sugar. He set it down and sat on the couch next to me. I started fixing my coffee when Andrew put his hand on my leg. I glanced down. He moved his hand lightly up my thigh and, uncomfortable, I moved my leg over, away from him. He froze, his hand still resting lightly on my leg. He pulled his hand away and I saw a flash of anger in his eyes before he smiled easily. "I forgot the cream. I'll be right back," he said.

He gave me another unreadable look and I felt my scalp prickle uncomfortably like it always does when something is not right.

Right then my cell phone rang.

I stood up and grabbed my phone out of my coat pocket and flipped it open.

"Cavanaugh," I said.

"Jordan, it's Woody. Don't say anything, just listen. After I saw you and that guy at the Pogue I went back to the precinct. Something about him just didn't seem right. I ran his name through the Boston Accountant Register and didn't get any hits. So I ran it through the national database, and there is no Andrew Lloyd that has ever registered as a CPA. So I ran the name and found no matches in the age range of this guy. So I went to Dave and had him doctor Miss Williams' sketch. Jordan, that's our guy. When he put the long hair and took off the goatee it was unmistakable. It's him."

((sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger like that, but I had to split up the chapter....hehe...))

((please review and let me know what you think!))


	14. Monsters & Madmen

Hi everyone!!

WOW! So many reviews this time!!

Big hugs and thanks to: whalersfan, jtbwriter, kacie20, Agel15, sugar31107, traceyh & sharebear for your reviews! I love ya guys!

Sharebear: I'm from Utah, too. I live in Taylorsville! :)

Now, onto the next Chapter.......

Disclaimer: still don't own Crossing Jordan

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My heart stalled at Woody's words and I glanced into the kitchen. Andrew was holding a carton of half and half and walking back into the room. Oh, Jesus, I thought. I couldn't say anything to tip him off.

"Okay, Dad, thanks for calling."

My words were met by silence. "Oh, shit. Jordan, are you with him?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Are you at his apartment?"

"Yes," I said.

"Oh, damn it, Jordan! Where are you?" Woody asked, panicked.

I glanced at Andrew. He was sitting on the couch watching me. Shit, I thought. What could I say to let him know where I was without alerting Andrew?

"Yeah, we could go to IHOP tomorrow," I said.

"IHOP? Which one?" Woody asked.

"I'll call you at six," I said, referring to Sixth Street, where the IHOP was, which was just a block away from the apartment.

I could hear Woody clicking on his computer. I glanced furtively at Andrew, who was starting to look suspicious.

"The one on Sixth and West Haven?" he asked.

"Yeah, that sounds good. I have to go, though, Dad. I'll talk to you later."

"Jordan, no, wait, is it one of those old apartment buildings?"

"Nope. See you at eight, bye," I said, and flipped the phone shut. But I didn't shut it all the way and hoped that the connection would stay. "Sorry about that," I said to Andrew with an apologetic smile. "That was my Dad, he wants to meet for breakfast tomorrow."

"Oh, really?" Andrew asked. He was trying to sound casual, but I could sense his nervousness.

"This is a nice apartment you have," I said.

"Thanks," he replied.

I set the phone on the coffee table and looked out the window. "It's nice you're so close to the Save-a-Lot," I said, referring to the grocery store next door. "That's handy. And that's a nice view you have from the eighth floor."

"Yeah, it is. So, Jordan, come here and sit down. Make yourself comfortable," he said, motioning towards the couch next to him.

My stomach was churning and I was hyper-alert. My skin crawled as I sat down next to him, trying to act as casual as possible so he wouldn't know I knew anything.

I took a sip of my coffee and looked at Andrew over the edge of the cup. He was watching me, a calculating look in his blue eyes.

I studied him, wondering how I missed the fact that he was the one in the sketch. Probably because other than the height, the description had been completely opposite of Andrew. He must have worn a wig and colored contacts.

I drank my coffee quickly and set my cup down. "I should probably get home," I said. "I have to meet my Dad pretty early."

"Oh, don't go yet, Jordan. The night's still young," Andrew said. He leaned over towards me, going to kiss me.

I smiled and started to stand up. Andrew's hands grasped my wrists, keeping me from standing up. He pulled me towards him and kissed me full on the mouth. I struggled to get out of his grip but he was strong, stronger than I had thought.

"Stop it," I said, jerking my head back. I was in trouble.

He looked at me angrily. "Oh, c'mon Jordan. Lighten up." There was a dangerous, manic glint in his eye and I felt like I'd just been drenched with ice water.

"Who are you?" I said heatedly. "Why are you doing this?"

"All in good time, sweetheart," he said with a wink.

I struggled to get out of his grip, but he was too strong for me. He let go of one of my wrists and hit me, backhanded, across my cheek.

I stopped struggling and looked at him. My jaw was clenched and I angrily fought back the tears from the sharp, stinging pain in my cheek.

"So what's the problem, Jordan? You were so interested in me, so willing before. What happened? Is it your little detective friend? Is that why you resist me?"

I stared at him, horrified. How could I not have seen it? How could I not tell that there was something...off with this guy? He had seemed so normal, but looking at him now, all I could feel was the icy cold of fear.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Want? Oh, Jordan, I think you know what I want."

My mind froze. He hadn't raped any of the other girls. Was that what he meant? And if so, why hadn't he raped the others?

"You know, you ruined my plan for Darcie," he said and I struggled to keep my face neutral, to not show what I was thinking. "Getting those cops involved, I could never finish what I started with her."

"Good," I spat.

He raised his eyebrows. "Such spunk, Jordan. But then, you always have had spunk, haven't you?"

I gritted my teeth, thinking furiously. I didn't know what the hell was going on and I knew I couldn't get away from him. I was in real trouble and I willed my heart to stop racing as I looked around the apartment, trying to figure out some way to get away.

"I'm going to let you go now. If you try anything, I'll kill you," he said. "You can't get out anyway, the door has a code."

I glanced at the door and saw that it had one of those locks on it like they have at banks, where you have to push a combination of buttons to unlock the door. He released me and I fought the urge to start beating on him. He was a lot bigger than I was. I wasn't going to get out of this by fighting. I had to use my wits and pray that Woody had understood my message.

Andrew stood up and walked over to a bookshelf that stood against the wall. He pulled out several binders and a book which I saw was a copy of my yearbook from my senior year at Burke.

He sat next to me and spread the books out across the table.

"Once upon a time," he began, "There was a boy. And he liked this girl. But the girl was so pretty and so popular that he was afraid to ask her out. So he thought he'd ask out her friend and get close to her that way. But the friend thought that she was too good for him, so he tried to ask out her other friends, but they thought they were too good, too. This happened five times. Five! And each time the girl laughed in the boy's face. Laughed at him! One of them said she'd go out with him. In his dreams. That's not very nice, now, is it?"

Realization was beginning to dawn on me. "Who are you?" I asked again.

Andrew flipped open the yearbook and went past the seniors, past the juniors and sophomores and ended up in the freshmen. He flipped the page and stared down at it. He gave a wry little smile and then pushed the book towards me. "Recognize anyone?"

I stared down at the page and scanned the rows of photos. No one looked familiar, and no one looked anything like Andrew.

"Don't remember?" he asked pleasantly. He pointed at a picture and I leaned over and stared at it.

It was tiny, black and white, and blurry in the way of all yearbook pictures, but the kid in the picture didn't even have a vague resemblance to the guy sitting next to me.

The kid was overweight, had thick glasses and buck teeth. I glanced at the name. Lyle Barton. It didn't even seem vaguely familiar.

"Don't look the same, do I?" he said.

I stared at him stonily, refusing to answer.

"Well, when the boy finally got up the nerve to ask the girl that he had liked in the first place, she turned him down, too. It was you, Jordan. You were the one I wanted from the beginning. But your friends just laughed at me. It was your little friend Shannon that told me she'd go out with me in my dreams. The others were a little nicer than that, but they all laughed. They all looked at me like they couldn't believe I'd have the nerve to talk to them. Like I was a lower life form or something."

I swallowed. I had a vague memory of being asked out by a nerdy kid to go to a school dance. But I didn't remember anything else about it. I didn't remember what I had said, only that I had told him no.

"You were nicer than the rest of your little friends. You and Lisa, you at least pretended to be nice. But then I heard the six of you laughing about me. Talking about the geeky little kid that had asked you out and how you wouldn't be caught dead going out with a nerd like that. I heard you. You had told me that you couldn't go to the dance with me because you already had been asked. Then I found out that the six of you had gone together, with no dates. You lied to me, Jordan. You lied and I found out. And I swore that day that you would pay. All of you would pay for treating me like dirt."

Pieces of the puzzle began falling into place. Shannon had been the most brutally attacked, which now made sense.

Keep him talking, I thought.

"You don't look the same at all," I said.

He looked at me. "Yeah, I know. I lost weight, worked out, got braces and contacts. I'm not even the same person," he said proudly.

"You look great," I said, trying to sound sincere.

"Yeah. That's all you and your friends cared about, isn't it? Looks."

Oops, I thought. That was probably the wrong thing to say. My mind worked frantically for something else to say.

"Did you pose as John Newman to everyone or just Darcie?" I asked, hoping to appeal to his pride.

"Everyone. Gullible bitches, all of them. They were so excited to think that they had been chosen for the article, that I wanted their pictures for the 'display'." He laughed and I felt a chill go down my spine at his words.

"Why didn't you do that with me?" I asked, genuinely curious.

He looked at me and smiled. "Because, Jordan, you were the one I wanted. I wanted you from the beginning. So I was going to give you a chance, see if you would give_ me_ a chance. I thought you would, I thought you liked me, but then you became so cold. You acted so interested, then you turned on me. You invited me over knowing full well what I'd be thinking. You toyed with me, then you shot me down."

I stared at him in disbelief. "I wanted to get to know you," I said.

He laughed. "Right. I know all about you, Jordan. I've been keeping track of you for awhile. You have no problem with hooking up with guys, no commitment. But with me? No."

I swallowed. "It wasn't anything to do with you," I said. "I didn't want another one night stand. I wanted something....real."

I had to choke the words out, it was all I could do not to show my disgust. When I thought of how close I had come...and he was killer, a cold blooded murderer. I was around people like him all the time and he had fooled me completely.

Andrew...or Lyle, I should say, looked at me, his icy blue eyes softening as he looked at me.

"Really, Jordan?" he asked. "You thought we could have something real?"

It was as if the man before me had transformed back into the shy, geeky high school boy. He was looking at me anxiously.

I'd been stuck in bad situations before. But this was something entirely new. I didn't know if Woody knew where I was or would be able to find me. I was on my own, locked in an apartment with a psychopath and I had no idea what to do.

((well, what did you think? Please review and let me know! More to come!))

A/N: I know everyone figured Andrew for the bad guy. Kind of hard not to when you introduce a new character. But I hope that my story behind him and why he did what he did was kinda interesting and not totally predictable!!


	15. Ain't Goin Nowhere

Big hugs and thanks and brownies :) to all my reviewers: sharebear, kacie20, jtbwriter, prin69, pol, whalersfan & traceyh. You guys are the best!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan. Yet. If this changes, you will be the first to know.

And now, without further ado, onto Chapter 15.......

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I decided I needed to do whatever I could to stall for time. I hoped my cell phone had stayed connected and that Woody had been able to get a trace on it.

"Yeah, Lyle," I said softly. "I thought we could have something real."

He looked at me eagerly. "Really?"

"Yeah," I said. I reached over and took his hand, swallowing my revulsion.

"What are those other books?" I asked, meaning the binders he had laid out on the coffee table.

"Oh, I'll show you!" he said eagerly, his eyes lighting up. He pulled one of them out and opened it.

My eyes widened as he flipped through the pages.

It was me; pages and pages of pictures of me, from high school straight into pictures of me at crime scenes.

"I missed you when you moved to California," he said. "But I knew you'd be back. Otherwise I would have moved there."

I struggled to stay calm. "Really?" I said.

"Yeah, of course. But you came back, I was so happy!" he exclaimed, looking at the pictures.

"What's in the other ones?" I asked, afraid to ask, but morbidly curious.

"Oh, these?" he said and pulled out another one. "This one is notes."

I scanned the pages and realized he had written a how-to for the perfect crime.

"I studied a lot," he said seriously. "There's lots of information. I knew when I decided to take my revenge that I would have to make sure there was no chance that I'd get caught."

There was information on defensive wounds, fibers, trace evidence, everything. "Wow," I said. "You did a lot of research."

"Yeah. I wondered if you would be the ME on the murders of your friends. I thought that they wouldn't let you, but they did. It didn't matter, though. I covered my tracks."

"Yes you did," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "We didn't find anything."

"I know. I've been keeping track of what's going on," Lyle said. He opened up the other book and I gasped. It was the before and after pictures of my friends. One taken the day that he'd posed as John Newman and the other after he'd killed them.

He laughed. "I told them there'd be before and after pictures."

My God, I thought. The guy was completely insane. The icy cold of fear slid down my spine as I the deadly seriousness of the situation hit me and I started to wonder how I was going to get out of this.

"C-can I see a picture of your sister and your niece and nephew?" I asked.

He looked at me, surprised. "Sure, Jordan," he said and he walked over to the bookcase and pulled down a framed photo. He brought it back and handed it to me.

"That's them," he said.

"Oh, they're so cute," I said automatically, glancing around furtively to see if there was anything around that I could possibly use as a weapon. There wasn't. "Is this your only sister?"

"No, I have four sisters, all older." There was a pause. "I'm done talking," he said. He gathered up the books and put them carefully back onto the bookshelf, leaving the picture with me.

I weighed my options. I was a lot smaller than him. Most definitely he was stronger than me. So what was my best chance? Whatever I decided to do, I would have one try, if it didn't work I had no doubt he would kill me.

Lyle sat back down on the couch next to me and I quickly tucked the picture into the couch behind me. He scooted over until our bodies were touching. I wanted to jump up, get as far away from him as possible but I decided to bide my time, hoping some idea would come to me.

"You're so beautiful, Jordan. You've always been beautiful," he said softly, reaching over to stroke my cheek with his hand. I clenched my jaw against the urge to jerk away from his touch. But I knew I couldn't afford to make him mad.

"Thank you," I said. I decided than my best and possibly only chance would be to surprise him, catch him completely unaware.

"Lyle," I whispered, looking at seductively. At least, I hope it was seductive. Hell, I was happy with any kind of a look other that the complete and total loathing that I felt.

"What, Jordan?" he said.

"I really do like you," I said breathily, mentally crossing my fingers that he'd fall for it.

"You do?" he said, looking suspicious. "But what about your friends? You were really upset about it."

Anger boiled inside of me when I thought of what he had done to them, but I just smiled coyly. "I _was_ upset," I said. "But that was before I knew. Now that I know, I can't believe that we treated you that way. It was so wrong of us." I opened my eyes wide, trying to look innocent.

His expression softened. "Really Jordan?"

"Yes, Lyle," I said and I leaned over, fighting my disgust the whole time, and kissed him. He was tense at first, but he quickly relaxed. I reached back with one hand and grabbed the picture frame. He put his hands on my waist, returning my kiss eagerly.

As I felt him relax I jumped back quickly and swung my arm around with all my might, aiming the sharp corner of the picture frame straight at his eye.

He had amazing reflexes. Even as I pulled back he was alert, turning his head to the side and reaching for my hand as I brought the frame around.

Instead of hitting him in the eye it glanced off his skull as his hand gripped my wrist tightly.

"You bitch," he roared, backhanding me across the face so hard that I saw stars and was thrown back against the couch.

I struggled against the darkness that was threatening to overtake me, knowing my life depended on staying awake, trying to fight him.

He put his hand to his scalp and when he looked at his fingers he saw the blood coating them and his face turned purple with rage.

"You lying little slut," he hissed as I scrambled backwards and off of the couch. "You're all the same. You're no better than your friends."

My heart was pounding and my face throbbed where he'd hit me.

"I should have known. I should have known you hadn't changed. You're still the same stuck up bitch you were in high school, thinking you're so much better than everyone else."

He lunged at me and I dove sideways, scrambling to my feet and running into the kitchen. I skidded to a halt by the fridge and looked around frantically for a knife. As he came through the door I grabbed a long knife from a wood knife holder on the counter.

He laughed at me. "You think you can beat me?" he asked. "This should be humorous. I'm trained in Jiu Jitsu," he said.

"I'm impressed," I said sarcastically, holding the knife low, ready to defend myself if he came closer.

He snarled and lunged at me. I brought the knife up, aiming for his stomach. He deflected me, but the knife sank into his forearm and he growled with rage as I pulled the knife out and went to strike again. He held his injured arm to his side, blood flowing onto the white tiles and he struck my arm with his other hand, momentarily paralyzing my arm and causing me to drop the knife.

I was out of options. I was cornered, I had no weapons, and the injuries I had caused him hadn't even slowed him down.

Desperate, I dove for the knife on the floor but he grabbed me and threw me against the fridge. My head struck the corner of the fridge and everything went dark.

X

When I came to I didn't know where I was. It was totally cliché but it was true. My foggy brain tried to remember what the hell was going on.

It hit me at once, with the impact of a train and I tried to sit up.

My head swam as I sat up. I was on the couch and Lyle was nowhere to be seen. Anger surged through me. I was not going to die at the hands of a low life loser like Lyle Barton. I glanced around, trying to see him, but I couldn't. I didn't know how long I'd been out, but I didn't think it was very long.

The apartment was mostly dark, the only light coming from a floor lamp in the corner. Loud music was playing, the beat throbbing against my aching head. I caught the song immediately as I listened to the words.

It was an Oingo Boingo song, one that I'd always liked. _When the Lights Go Out_ was the name of it. _Monsters and madmen all come alive, when the dead start walking there's no place to hide._ The words send a chill down my spine.

I tried to stand, looking around frantically for Lyle, but he was nowhere to be seen and I was so lightheaded that I couldn't stand.

_No one can be trusted, when the lights go out. People act real crazy, people start to shout. People huddle together, try and hide their fear. People party down but they ain't goin' nowhere..._

"You're not going anywhere, Jordan," Andrew said pleasantly as he walked around the couch and stopped to stand in front of me, one hand behind his back.

I glared up at him. "You won't get away with this," I snarled.

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? I don't know about that."

"My Dad knows I'm here," I said, desperate.

"Huh. That's interesting because when I called to see if he'd seen you he said he hadn't talked to you at all today," he stated.

I gritted my teeth and tried not to show my fear. He was insane, no doubt about that. But he was smart. Too smart.

"You're just a liar, Jordan. All you've done is lie to me. I don't like that, Jordan. I really don't," he said and before I could react, he hit me again. I scrambled backwards and tried to stand. My blood ran cold as I saw the large knife in his other hand. My nose stung and I felt the warm stickiness of blood running down my face.

He wasn't going to kill me without a fight. I pulled every bit of energy I had and I staggered away from him, towards the back of the apartment, looking frantically for anything I could use as a weapon.

"You've been more fun than the rest of your friends," Lyle said as he walked lazily towards me, taking his time and looking as if he had nothing more on his mind than friendly talk. "They didn't have nearly as much spunk, Jordan. They begged, they pleaded, but none of them fought. Do you think, Jordan that you will beg in the end?"

"Go to hell, you bastard," I growled.

He laughed. "Oh, I'm sure I will eventually, Jordan. But you'll be making it there before me."

He took another step towards me and I backed up. I wiped my face, my arm coated in blood. My heart was pounding painfully and I felt the sharp sting of tears as I realized I wasn't going to make it out of this apartment alive.

I refused to beg. He could kill me, but I wouldn't give this lunatic the satisfaction of pleading with him. I kept backing up, not wanting to turn my back on him. I hit the wall just opposite of the door and realized there was nowhere left for me to go. I thought of my father. He was going to be all alone in the world now. And Woody, poor Woody. I had never had the guts to tell him how I felt about him and now it was too late. He would never know how I felt. My clues to where I was hadn't worked, hadn't been enough. I was out of options, out of time.

I angrily fought tears, knowing that's what Lyle wanted. He wanted to know I was afraid, that I was desperate.

I would not show him how afraid I was.

"It's too bad you didn't just like me, Jordan, and all of this could have been avoided," Lyle said pleasantly. "We could have been happy together if you would just have loved me."

I looked him in the eye.

"In your dreams," I said, glaring at him.

His face changed. It was so drastic it was like watching a special effect in a movie. His features twisted in anger and he was shaking with rage.

"You think your so tough, Jordan Cavanaugh. You won't think that for long," he snarled.

Just as he was about to lunge at me there was a God awful noise from the hallway, thumping and crashing.

"JORDAN! Are you here? JORDAN?"

Lyle whipped around, looking at the front door, an odd combination of anger and fear in his eyes.

"Woody!" I screamed. "IN HERE!" And while Lyle was distracted I ran past him, towards the door, feeling a sudden surge of adrenaline.

He was quick. He lunged at me with the knife but he missed. He was thrown off balance and he fell, the knife skittering across the floor.

"JORDAN!" Woody shouted again.

There was a tremendous crash and the door flew open and Woody rushed in holding his gun at the ready. Five more cops followed and I got behind them, out of the way.

Lyle was getting to his feet, holding the knife. His eyes wild and darting from side to side, looking for escape.

"Drop the knife," Woody said loudly.

Lyle was breathing heavily and his long hair was mussed as he looked around frantically.

"I said drop the knife. Drop it now!" Woody shouted.

It was if Lyle couldn't, or wouldn't, hear. He looked at the cops and at the open door behind them and he made a dash towards the door.

A shot rang out and I jumped. Blood spread rapidly across Lyle's chest and he crumpled to the floor, the knife sliding from his hand and hitting the floor with a metallic crash.

Still holding his gun at the ready Woody crept towards the form crumpled on the floor. Blood was spreading across the floor.

Woody crouched down and felt at Lyle's neck for a pulse. He stood up and turned around to face the other cops and me.

"He's dead," he said tonelessly. He holstered his gun and walked quickly over to where I was leaning against the wall. My head ached and I felt lightheaded. The spot on the back of my head that had hit the fridge was throbbing.

"Oh my God, Jordan, are you okay?" Woody asked, his face white, his eyes wide with fear. I felt myself start slump to the floor. I barely felt strong arms catching me, holding me as the darkness overtook me again.

((well? How'd I do? Please please review and let me know!!))

A/N: Don't worry, there's more to come! :) I'm so sad to see this story end, I've had a great time writing it. I'm just trying to find ideas for a new story. Again, thanks to all my loyal readers for their reviews and support!


	16. Turn the Night Into Day

Holy cow! I can't believe how many people reviewed this chapter!!

Luv and hugs to: Rinny J, Agel15, jtbwriter, prin69, sweet-rush37, me, kacie 20, traceyh, sugar 31107, Willow Murray, pol and whalersfan for the reviews! I appreciate the reviews and they keep me inspired!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan, Oingo Boingo or the song When the Lights Go Out. Thought I'd let ya know.

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The first thing I became aware of when I came to was light. Bright, blinding light that seemed to pound into my head. I winced and tried to sit up.

"No, no, Jordan, you need to stay down," said a soothing voice.

I opened my eyes and squinted against the light. My body ached. My head ached. Even my hair seemed to ache as I tried to focus on the blurry face swimming in front of me.

"Woody?" I asked, my voice gruff.

"Yeah, Jo, it's me. You need to lie down, relax," he said.

"What's going on? Where am I?" I asked, completely disoriented. The last thing I remembered...was Lyle's apartment, Woody coming in and shooting Lyle.

"You're in the hospital, Jo. You have a concussion. You're going to be fine, but you need to relax."

I sank back onto the hospital bed and looked around. The room was empty except for Woody and me and a vase of daisies.

"Your dad and Garrett and Nigel are here," he said. "Bug and Lily are going to stop by as soon as they can," Woody said. "Garrett and Nige took your dad down to the cafeteria to get some coffee."

I shifted around gingerly. My back was killing me. "How long have I been here?" I asked.

"You've been unconscious for eight hours. It's about eight am." He paused. "You gave me quite a scare, Jordan," Woody said softly. He took one of my hands in his and looked down at me gravely. "He beat you pretty bad and you have a lump the size of a golf ball on the back of your head."

"He threw me against the refrigerator," I said. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open.

"Jordan!" I opened my eyes and saw my father hurrying through the doorway, followed closely by Nigel and Garrett.

Woody hurried to step aside as my Dad reached the bedside.

"Oh my God, Jordan, I was so worried," Dad said, his voice uneven.

"I'm okay, Dad," I said.

He hugged me carefully. "Thank God Woody found you when he did."

I had so many questions, but my eyes were growing heavier and heavier. I tried to force my eyes open but I just couldn't. I shut my eyes and fell back into the peacefulness of sleep.

X

When I woke up again I felt a lot better. At least my whole body didn't ache, although my head was still pounding.

Opening my eyes I saw Woody sprawled out in a chair next to the hospital bed, sound asleep. I looked down at him, remembering my last thoughts before he had shown up at Lyle's apartment, when I had thought that without a doubt, I was not going to make it out of there alive.

I clearly remembered thinking that I had never gotten the chance to tell Woody how I felt about him. Interesting that that would be the last thing I would think about. Not my mother, not my father, but Woody. I didn't want to analyze what that meant.

A dark haired head poked around the doorway. "Jordan, luv, you're awake!"

"Hey Nige," I said.

Nigel came into the room, creeping past Woody who was still asleep. "He's been here all day," Nigel said, nodding his head towards the sleeping Woody. "So's your Dad, he just left to get something to eat."

"What time is it?" I asked as I cautiously pushed myself up so I was sitting up.

"It's about noontime," Nigel replied. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and stood beside the hospital bed.

"You gave us quite the scare, luv," Nigel said. "Woody called us while they were bringing you here. The way he was talking we thought...well, we thought the worst."

"Yeah, well, I'm tough," I said with a wry smile.

Nigel was still staring at me.

"What, do I look that bad?"

"You're pretty black and blue, luv. He did a number on ya," Nigel said.

"Well, he ended up the worst off, so it's okay," I said.

Nigel chuckled. "That's my Jordan," he said.

Just then Woody stirred. He sat up, looked over at me and jumped up.

"Jordan, you're up! How are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Wood. What are you doing here? Don't you have work?"

Woody shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "I'm on leave. Because of the shooting, while they investigate."

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry, Woody."

He shrugged again. "It'll be fine," he said.

Nigel's glance darted between Woody and me and he edged towards the door. "I'm glad you're feeling better, luv. I'm going to go find Max and tell him you're awake."

"Thanks, Nige," I said and he disappeared through the door, shutting it behind him.

Woody and I stared at each other.

"So how'd ya find me?" I asked finally because I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"We couldn't get a trace on your cell phone because it cut out. So we had to try and figure out which apartment building you were in. Your clues were good, but there are a lot of apartment buildings in that area. The last thing I heard was the eighth floor, so we just started going to the eighth floor of apartment buildings in that area. That was the fourth one we went into."

I thought about that. If the phone had cut out before I had mentioned the eighth floor they would never have found me and Lyle would most definitely have killed me. It was a sobering thought.

Woody had just opened his mouth to say something when the door burst open and Dad and Nigel walked in.

"Jordan, how are you feeling?" Dad asked. He came to the bedside and took my hand. His face was ashen.

"I'm fine Dad, really," I said. "Woody found me just in time."

"I know he did," Dad said. He looked across the bed at Woody who was standing there looking self conscious and rumpled, wearing the same shirt and slacks as he had worn the day before. "Thank you, Woody," Dad said and he held out his hand.

Woody took it and they shook hands firmly. "I'm just glad we got there when we did. I wish we'd gotten there sooner, before he did this to you," he said, brushing his fingers lightly across my cheek.

"Eh, it's just some bruises and a concussion," I said with a little shrug. "It's just a good thing I'm so hard headed."

"And that, my dear, is the worlds biggest understatement," Dad said with a chuckle and Woody and Nigel laughed.

Due to the severity of the concussion the doctor wanted me to stay the rest of the day for observation. I hated being cooped up in the sterile hospital room but throughout the day I had visitors. Woody finally had to leave for a meeting with the chief of police and DA Wolcott and we had never gotten a chance to talk any more, which gave me mixed feelings. On the one hand I knew he had had more to say to me, on the other, I wasn't sure that I wanted to know what it was he wanted to say.

Darcie came, bringing me a pint of Ben and Jerry's. She gasped when she saw me and thanked me over and over for saving her life.

"I couldn't have made it, Jordan. I'm not kidding, you are so much stronger than I ever could have been," she said after I told her the whole story. "I can't believe you stabbed him."

I shrugged. "I did what I had to do," I said.

"Still, I owe you my life," she said. She shuddered. "He was going to come back for me if you hadn't found me."

"Nigel is the one that found you," I said, motioning towards Nigel who was lurking in the doorway with Lily. "Nige, come and meet Darcie."

Introductions went around and soon everyone was chatting like old friends. Lily had brought me a potted plant, which was a nice gesture. She set it cheerfully on the shelf and I didn't have the heart to tell her that it would be dead in a week. "Gee, thanks, Lily!" I said with a smile. I had a terrible track record with plants, I thought, thinking of the brownish thing in my office that had once been a spider plant.

Nigel and Darcie seemed to really hit it off, and I could tell she really dug his accent. Soon they had decided to go get coffee and they left together, laughing. Lily and I watched them go and I thought that it would be nice if they got together.

"So, Jordan, do you want to talk about anything?" Lily asked as she settled down in the chair next to the bed. "That was quite the experience you had."

I sighed, started to get defensive like I always do, and then I stopped. "Actually...yeah, I think I do need to talk," I said.

Lily looked at me attentively.

"The thing is," I said, "Is that I'm around weirdoes like this guy all the time. I see them, I see the things they do. But this guy, he had me completely fooled. It's like...I don't know, I wonder if I can trust myself."

Lily was silent for a few minutes. "Well, Jordan, you can't just always go around being suspicious of everyone. Most people are not serial killers."

"I know, but I just feel so stupid. I fell for it, all of his lies, everything."

Lily chewed on her bottom lip and looked at me thoughtfully. "I think there might be more to how you're feeling than you're telling me."

I looked down and sighed. I didn't know how to say the things that I was just now starting to understand about myself.

Taking a deep breath I looked up at Lily, who took my hand. "I didn't want to go out with this guy because I liked him," I said. "I did it because I knew it would hurt Woody."

"Why do you want to hurt Woody?" Lily asked, her brow furrowed with confusion.

"Because..." my voice trailed off. "Because I l...like him and it scares me."

"You're afraid he doesn't feel the same way and it's easier if you force him away than if you have to face up to your feelings?" Lily said, very counselor-like.

"Yeah."

Lily leaned back in her chair. "I don't know what to say, Jordan. I mean, it's obvious how he feels about you. He's been here ever since they brought you here. Nigel said he wouldn't even leave when they came to take his badge and his gun."

I sighed heavily.

"You said you like him?"

"Yeah, I do," I replied.

"But you've never told him?"

I chuckled humorlessly. "No."

"Well, maybe you should. You would probably feel better."

"Maybe," I said doubtfully. "He saved my life you know. Lyle Barton would have killed me."

"I know, Nigel told us," Lily said.

"I don't know, maybe I will tell him."

Lily smiled at me. "I think you should, but it's your choice."

"Thanks Lil," I said.

"For what?"

"For listening to me."

"Anytime, Jordan. And I mean that!" Lily said with a warm smile. "Well, I have to get back, I have an appointment in an hour."

"Okay. Thanks for coming by. Oh, and thanks for the plant," I said as I looked over at it.

"You're welcome. Oh, and Jordan..."

"Yeah?"

"It's a silk plant, just so you know," Lily said with a wink as she walked out the door and I just laughed.

((more to come!))

((please please review and tell me what ya think!!!!!!))


	17. There to Comfort Me

Big thanks go out to my wonderful reviewers: kacie 20, jtbwriter, prin 69, whalersfan, willow, pol, Agel15, kay, Willow Murray, sugar31107 & rinny j. You're the best!

Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan.

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The day dragged by. After Lily left Garrett and Bug came in and brought me a box of Godiva chocolates, which we dove into right then. They stayed and visited for awhile and left when a couple of police officers came to get a statement.

I told them the story, or at least most of it and they left just as the doctor came in to check on me.

"You're free to go home," he told me. "Your head is going to hurt for a while, so I'll get you a prescription. Take it easy for a day or so. He beat you pretty badly. You're just lucky that he didn't fracture your cheekbone or break your nose."

I smiled wryly. "Yeah, I am pretty lucky," I said, and thought, in more ways than one.

The doctor left and I got out of bed, eager to get home. My clothes were on a shelf and I went into the bathroom and changed. When I saw my reflection in the mirror I realized why everyone had looked so shocked.

Large purple bruises covered my face and my nose was swollen. There was a cut on my bottom lip. I looked like a mess. And as I gingerly touched the back of my head, I felt the lump at the base of my skull and winced. I was lucky that I hadn't been hurt any worse, especially when I thought of Andrea, Lisa, Shannon and Lindsay. I shuddered when the image of Lyle standing before me popped up.

I hadn't told everyone the whole story. I had told them most of it, but I hadn't told them how desperate I had felt, how terrified I had been. I hadn't told them that I never thought I would leave that apartment alive. I hadn't told them how I'd flirted with Lyle, kissed him, trying to save myself. The thought sickened me.

I slipped into the jeans and shirt that I had worn to the Pogue the night before. Dried blood crusted the front of the shirt. Even though I was an ME the sight made me slightly nauseous, I guess because the blood was mine. There wasn't much else I could do with myself. I was sore and wanted nothing more than a long soak in a hot bath.

When I walked out of the bathroom I realized that I didn't have a way home. My car was still at my apartment.

"Damn," I muttered. Now I was going to have to hang around the hospital until someone could come and get me or I'd have to take a cab. Which wouldn't work, since I had no idea where my purse was, or my cell phone for that matter. I sighed heavily and walked out into the hall to find the nurses station and use the phone.

I almost collided with Woody as I turned the corner.

"Jordan! You're up!" he said when he saw me.

"Yeah, hi Woody," I said awkwardly.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I was just going to find a phone to call someone to pick me up," I said.

"Oh, well, I was stopping by to see when you could leave and to see if you needed a lift. Max wanted to come but one of the bartenders called in sick and he couldn't leave."

"Oh."

"Can I take you home?" he asked.

"Yeah, thanks Woody," I said.

We went back into my room and picked up the vase of daisies and Lily's silk plant. We walked out to Woody's car, each lost in our own thoughts.

We drove in silence for awhile, then I turned to Woody. "So how'd things go in your meeting with the chief and Wolcott?" I asked.

"Oh, you know. I followed procedures, they can't see that I did anything wrong, so I'm fine. I don't have to work until Monday, though."

I nodded. "I'm glad you didn't get in trouble," I said seriously.

Woody looked over at me and shrugged. "Nah, I'm not in any trouble." he said. "The officers told them that there was nothing else I could do."

"Still, I'm glad you showed up when you did," I said, biting my bottom lip.

"You were doing a pretty good job holding your own," he commented.

I laughed shortly. "Yeah. Well, I don't know how much longer I could have held him off."

We pulled in front of my apartment building. Woody opened the car door for me and carried my things. "Oh, wait," he said as we got to the front door. "I have your purse."

He jogged back to the car, grabbed the purse and came back.

We went upstairs to my apartment and Woody set the flowers and the plant on the coffee table. I sat stiffly on the couch.

Woody stood there, arms crossed, looking decidedly nervous. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yeah, actually I am," I said.

"How 'bout I go grab some burgers and bring them back here?"

"Yeah, Woody, that sounds great," I said. "I think I'll just take a shower while you go. Thanks."

He nodded. "Sure, Jo. I'll be back soon."

"Oh, here, take my key in case I'm in the shower," I said and handed him the key to my apartment.

"Alright. Be back in a few," he said as he left.

Once he was gone I heaved a relieved sigh. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate Woody, but I was feeling stressed, overwhelmed and tired.

I decided that what I needed was to have a long, hot bath so I went into my tiny bathroom and ran a steaming hot bath. I stripped off the bloody clothes from the night before and threw them into the garbage. No way would I ever wear them again.

I slid into the hot water and leaned back, feeling the water start to loosen my tight muscles. I carefully washed my hair and face, wincing against the slight pressure, and the sting of the hot water on my scrapes. I closed my eyes and saw flashbacks of memory from the night before. Lyle, the album of pictures of me, the pictures of my friends, Woody coming through the door...

I shivered. The water had cooled so I got out and changed into a pair of black terrycloth jogging pants and matching shirt. I slipped into a pair of slippers and emerged from the bathroom to find Woody still gone. I sat on the couch and noticed the vase of daisies again. There was a card, which I hadn't noticed before. I opened it. It was signed simply, Woody. I smiled.

The door opened then and Woody came through carrying McDonald's bags. "I hope you're in the mood for a Big Mac," he said.

"Sounds good," I replied with a weak smile.

He set the bags down on the coffee table and sat on the opposite end of the couch from me. "Thanks for the flowers," I said.

He looked surprised, probably wondering why I hadn't noticed the flowers before. "You're welcome."

We ate in silence. I thought about turning on the TV, but I didn't want to have to watch news story after news story about what had happened last night, and I was sure Woody didn't either. He was subdued, his eyes were haunted. It was not the first time he had shot someone, but it wasn't something that I thought you ever got used to.

When we were done eating we both sat back on the couch and I sighed. I glanced over at Woody and saw him watching me.

"Jordan," he said.

"Woody," I said at the same time and we both laughed.

"Go ahead," he said.

"I just...thank you again for, well, for saving my life," I said.

He looked at me. "I'm just glad we found you in time," he said. Then he paused and looked down at his hands. "I was afraid, Jordan," he said quietly. "I was afraid we wouldn't find you in time and it would be my fault for leaving you at the Pogue with him."

"You didn't know that's who it was," I protested.

"No, but I knew something was wrong. I should have said something, not let you stay with him."

I thought about that. "You would have only made me mad," I said. "I wouldn't have listened to you."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know."

There was another silence. "Woody, I..."

"What Jordan?"

I took a deep breath. "I thought he was going to kill me, Woody. I did. There was no way for me to get out of that apartment. If you hadn't found me, he would have killed me," I said. I was horrified to realize that my eyes were stinging with tears. The self control that I had spent my whole life perfecting was crumbling around me as I remembered the look in Lyle's eyes as he talked so calmly of killing my friends, of killing me.

"I know, Jo, but we did find you, that's what's important," Woody said.

It was like a dam burst. The words started rushing out of me before I could stop them. I told him the whole story, the one that no one had heard. I didn't know why it was that I would tell it to Woody, of all people. It just kind of happened.

"I tried to seduce him, Woody. I tried to seduce him so that I could catch him off guard. It didn't work, the guy had reflexes that you wouldn't believe. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know if I'd gotten across to you where to look for me," I paused and shuddered. "It was horrible, Woody. You know me, I'm not afraid of anything, but I was terrified," I rambled. That last bit was a complete lie. The truth was, I was afraid of a lot, I had just learned very well how to hide it.

Woody was staring at me like he didn't know who I was. His eyes were solemn and sad, but I could also see anger burning in the back of his blue eyes. I could feel myself shaking slightly. No doubt he'd never seen me this upset before.

"Oh, Jo, it's okay. It's okay," he said softly and held his arms open, not pressuring me, just letting me know he was there for me.

I stared at him, my emotions battling inside of me. I felt vulnerable, which is a feeling that I do not like. But at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to just be in his arms, let him hold me with no thought of the consequences.

I felt a tear creep down my cheek and Woody reached over and brushed it carefully away. I put my hand to my mouth and felt my pride crumble away as I practically fell into his arms, sobbing.

He let me cry. He put his arms around me and whispered soothing words in my ear while he gently stroked my hair.

"You don't always have to be so strong, Jordan. You can lean on me, I'm here for you," he said so softly that I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or to himself.

I don't know how long we sat that way, with Woody's arms around me. I dozed off and I woke up, startled to find myself leaning on Woody's chest. He was leaning back on the couch, his head back, sound asleep.

I sat up and stretched which woke Woody up. He sat up and yawned.

We stared at each other. Words unsaid lay between us and the tension was thick.

"I uh, I should probably get going," Woody said finally.

The words I wanted to say were on the tip of my tongue but I couldn't say them.

"Yeah," I said and reluctantly stood up. Woody got tohis feet and picked up his wallet and keys from the table. The silence was heavy as we walked towards the front door.

Woody had just put his hand on the doorknob when I took a deep breath and put my hand over his, stopping him from turning the knob. "Woody..." I said softly.

"Yeah, Jordan?" he replied, staring down at me.

"Um...maybe you could...maybe you could stay here tonight. I don't...I just...I don't want to be alone," I managed to choke out, as close to telling him that I needed him as I could get.

He studied me with those deep blue eyes of his, then nodded. "Sure, Jo. I'd love to stay."

I gave him a half-smile and, still holding his hand, led him back to the couch. He dropped his keys and wallet back on the table and sat down. I sat down next to him and leaned over and rested my head against his chest. He put an arm around me, his hand warm and comforting on my shoulder.

I hadn't told him how I felt about him. I wanted to, but my own fears had choked me and I just couldn't say the words. I couldn't trust him, because I couldn't trust myself. I was so afraid to let go, to just tell him how I felt. I was afraid of being hurt again, I was afraid of hurting him.

I'd lost control, I'd cried and I'd admitted my fears, but I hadn't been able to get up the guts tell him how much I cared about him.

And as we sat there together on the couch, Woody's arms around me, I just hoped that somehow I'd find the courage I needed to tell him that I was pretty sure I loved him. I sighed. But that was a step I wasn't ready to take, not yet.

THE END

_A/N: well, there it is. I know it's probably not the ending you were hoping for, but with this story I was trying to stay true to the series since it's supposed to take place in the second season. I decided not to have them hook up because I wanted to keep it 'in character' for the series. I hope you enjoyed it anyways and as always all feedback is greatly appreciated._

_A big warm thanks to those of you who have been here since the beginning. Thanks for sticking with me! Hugs and kisses to you all, and I hope you check out my next story..._

_Love,_

_Gryffingirl_


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